She notes the hesitation, but isn't sure what to make of it. She'd managed to get through the mess with Mr. Fring without anyone actually pointing a gun at her, and Rita's formidable body armor had been such a far cry from the pellet guns at the booth that it doesn't even occur to Greta to compare the two.

It does occur to her - for a brief, shameful moment, like a bad habit she hasn't quite managed to break - that Iman might just be questioning her ability to even handle the device in the first place. But that's not fair. Iman's been nothing but encouraging when it comes to her capabilities. Besides, if they're relying on her Rift Enchantment to do most of the work for them, it hardly matters whether she's an accomplished markswoman. It'll work itself out.

She must be missing something. She can't guess what, but she's certain she doesn't want to do this if it's going to bother her girlfriend - not when there are probably other rigged games they could best. Her brow furrows at Iman's belated agreement, and she touches her arm lightly. "Are you sure? We could find something else."