"Whoa, hey," Kate stretches out a hand toward her bow protectively, "Careful on the draw there, Conan. I can see how my awesome skills would make you think that I'm superhuman, but you are actually too strong for my bow and the string is not going to last if you yank on it that hard." She's found one of the wider lanes on the shooting range and set up the target for archery, which appears to involve a couple foam pillows tacked to the wall behind the target.

She steps back once fears of imminent string-snapping have passed, shoving hands back into the pockets of her jeans. "I know it makes it less natural not having as much tension to pull against, which sucks. I wonder if any of the elves could make you one the right size. They are the archery and frolicking through woodland glades sort of elves, right? Not the tiny shoe-fixing cookie-baking kind?"