writing snippet - becoming the game (unrevised)

Buzzers and chimes formed a raucus chorus and small lights blinked smugly as the pinball fell into the gutter. Again. Angel's look of concentration warped into an expression that was equal parts grin and grimace. "Rats. I'm out of quarters. Do you have any more?"

"No, I don't. I only brought enough for a couple games and I went before you, remember?"

Angel sighed and wistfully flipped the flippers one more time before coming over to sit next to me. "I know, but I wanted to ask anyway. Who ever knows when quarters will magically appear out of nowhere?"

"And maybe someday I'll be the queen of France," I teased, and hugged her shoulders.

Angel rested her head on my shoulder. "That would be horrible. You'd look funny without a head."

"So, um, I was just wondering... Why do you always go straight for the pinball machine when we're here? Please please please don't take this the wrong way, but you're not very good at it..." I tensed up, worried she was going to be mad at me for saying it.

She looked up at me.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. That was really stupid of me. Awful. I mean..."

"Stop talking."

My voice quit. I was shocked; I'd never heard her use a sharp tone like that before. Oh boy. I must have messed up bad.

Angel looked at me with a smirk, and then her smirk broke into a wide grin. "I always wanted to try that on someone. Don't worry, I'm not mad."

I took a deep breath of relief. "Bene Gesserit witch."

"Enormous dork."

"I thought you were really mad at me for a second there. I was about prepared for emergency last rites."

"No, it's okay. It's a fair question. But I need you to promise you aren't going to think I'm weird or anything, okay?"

"Promise."

"Well...I'm becoming the game."

"Huh."

Angel's normal playful smirk clouded over as she searched for the words to express herself. "I mean, think about it. Pinball is a game that you can't win, right? Like, unless you wanted to play forever, you can't win. It's a game that's all about losing, right? Except...except it's not just about losing, it's about losing in the best possible way. But that's still about losing, if that makes sense. So, it's like you've got to learn the game, become one with it or something. Because it's a game about losing, and there are a million different ways to do that. So then you've got to become the game, so that there's no difference between you and the machine. And then losing doesn't bother you any more, because it's what's supposed to happen. And when it doesn't bother you any more, you can do what really needs to be done. So I don't keep losing because I want to or anything. I'd love to be able to top the high score list. Maybe some day I will, but I'm not going to do it by trying to cheat the game. I'll manage it by doing exactly what I'm supposed to do, by being the game. Does that make sense? Maybe? Sort of?"

"I think so. You're saying that if you learn all the ways you can lose, eventually you'll know exactly how to win, right?"

"No, that's not it at all." Angel frowned, the first time I'd ever seen her do that, and then sighed. "Maybe I'll be able to put it in better words someday. But until then, you'll just have to believe me, okay?"

I looked her straight in the eye. "You have it on my honor that I will take you at your word."

"Thanks." She rested her head on my shoulder again, and looked up at me with another playful grin spreading across her face. "Now are you SURE you don't have any more quarters?"