Prompt for Director Sanvers? Mini Golf is easier for people who are shorter than average.
For the record, the last two times I played minigolf were a) an incredibly awkward date (although tbf, have I ever not had an awkward date?) and b) when my little brother got tired of waiting his turn and gave me a concussion so I couldn’t beat him the rest of the game. Or walk up a slight incline without falling over.
Anyway. No badass babes were injured in the course of this game. Just Alex’s pride.
Alex Danvers was a prodigy at math and sciences. That’s how she got her MD/PhD, that’s how she blew through training for the DEO, and that’s how she became one of the best shots in the organization.
That’s how she beat Maggie at pool so often. Physics and Trig with sticks.
“It must be nice to be so short.”
“Alex we are like three inches shorter than you.”
“No, Mags, you are three inches shorter than me. Major Pain is four.”
“Fuck you, Danvers. What’s the matter, those stilts you call legs not giving you an advantage at mini golf?”
“I don’t see you bending in half to put it in the hole, Lane.”
“No, that was last night,” Maggie deadpanned.
Alex tripped over her feet, and it was only by the grace of a snickering Maggie that she didn’t topple face-first into the water feature. Redder than Lucy’s ball, Alex sputtered and stuttered and couldn’t look either of them in the face.
Lucy, of course, was cackling so hard she missed her shot. And the next one. And the next three until she gave up and sat down in the middle of the green. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
“I’m fining you three for that, asshole,” Alex muttered.
Maggie looked up from nudging Lucy with her foot. “Me or Lane?”
“Both of you Keebler assholes.”
Maggie just snorts and offers a hand to drag Lucy back to her feet. She was still giggling, but at least she finally made the shot.
Maggie’s turn took three.
Alex? Alex took sixteen tries.
Maggie and Lucy were trying, and failing, not to laugh at their frustrated girlfriend. A full round of 18, with a par of 54, left Lucy in the lead with two under, Maggie behind her with six over, and Alex, dead last with 213 strokes.
“I want a recount.”
“Alex, sweetheart, I’m a cop, I can’t count that high.”
Lucy ran a comforting hand down Alex’s back, and promptly goosed her. “C’mon tiger, I bet you get a hole in one at home.“
Alex grabbed Lucy’s wandering hand and used it to put her in a headlock. “Next time we’re playing basketball.”
“That’s so gay, Danvers.”
“Didn’t you play softball, Sawyer?” Lucy laughed, “Now that’s gay.”