"I can take care of it," Beverly offers, biting back a smile as she pulls on her shoes, ties the laces, and straightens again. Rarely as she's been there, they've had a computerized system in the bowling alley at home for a while now, but that doesn't stop her from adding for good measure, her voice deliberately loud enough for the guy behind the counter to hear, "The future is weird." It's the kind of remark that she knows is likely to earn a weird look — she's gotten them often enough at school and at the Home when she isn't up to date on whatever — but in this case, it's warranted. Not everyone is going to know what this shit is. Anyone working here should know that.

Shifting her weight to make sure the shoes fit alright, she lifts her chin slightly. "Where are your left-handed balls?"