"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works," Beverly says, laughing. He's the expert, but she's not about to be so easily duped. She wouldn't really insist that they not play a game on that basis, though, confident enough in her ability to hold her own against him, and in the fact that, no matter what he says, he'll be the one buying dinner. Out here on the boardwalk, those aren't even particularly high stakes. Pizza and fries, or whatever other junk food, wouldn't actually set her back too far. She's not about to say that, though, and risk sounding like she's admitting defeat.

The line at the ticket booth isn't too long, probably the benefit of the time of year. Standing just a few people back, she shifts her weight a little, restless as they wait, though not unpleasantly so. "Wow. Sure enough that you're gonna win that you're putting money into it already," she teases. "Well, don't let me stop you."