[center][h3]DUSTIN[/h3][/center]

        The music in the background droned onto a more calming, acoustic track than the sadder once that preceded it, Dustin smelled the familiar scent of hash enter the room. And, unless one of his newly-acquainted friends was already growing very comfortable, Dustin figured it had to be tattoo-ed girl.
	Sure enough, Dustin felt the woman almost brush past him as she walked around with a cue. 
	There was something about her confidence. It reminded him of a person long past. A person who looked nothing like her. 
	It reminded him of crimson blood stains on porcelain, perfect white. 
	It was best not to think of such things. Not anymore. Not on here. 
	Her lips opened and a thick cloud of smoke enveloped him. Dustin could almost feel his body react to the drug as it’s smoke poured into his nostrils. 
	On one hand, it seemed a bit early to be getting high, but on the other? He was sure most people wouldn’t approve of how many packs he put down a day. Not even counting the liquor.
	The woman gave off this odd air of complete comfort—almost sensuality—that drew him in. The feeling seemed almost mutual, as she was the first to come up to the smoking room. But perhaps it was something else entirely.
	Or perhaps it was just because this was the fucking smoking room. 
	Regardless, Dustin figured it’d be a good way to at least get a name out of her by engaging her in the “wager”	
	“I don’t make wagers with strangers,” he said, hoping this could get something out of her. “Especially if I don’t know how good they are at billiards.”
	Dustin motioned his hand slightly to the open table. Five solids and seven stripes remained.