Sharon doesn't bother to pick up her pace, just strolls slowly down as Steve winds back and flings the stone out across the water.

It skips more times than she can easily count. Super soldiers.

For her part, she shakes out the green throw on a sunny patch of grass and takes a seat where she can watch them, close enough to be a peanut gallery and far enough that she won't get splashed if stone-skipping turns into rough-housing.

"What are you betting?" she asks, grinning. "The goats?"