There's no need for him to be defensive about his performance. She thinks he's doing splendidly. Each throw gets an approving sound from her and when he's done she touches his shoulder lightly. "You're doing so well, now I'm certain I won't keep up. I hope my forfeits for losing every game won't be too strenuous."

Her hand lingers on him for a moment more before she glances over at the dartboard. She lifts her hand, rolling the dart between her fingertips while she considers before she draws her hand back and snaps her arm forward. If it were a game where the force of impact mattered, she'd probably win. As it is, she hits the 12 between the rings and seems delighted to have hit the board.