[center][h2]”Quit Talking and Start Chalking”[/h2][/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/v7hFDg9.jpg[/img]
[/center]

Part 4 of a JP/Collab from [@Xandrya], [@Gunther], [@wanderingwolf], and [@sail3695]

Between that side-eye she was giving him and his own back at her, Cal floated the offending Vodka and Boom Boom. “You see this? You see a barman make it or a waitress serve it?” Captain Strand extended the drink away from Abigail and upturned it to pour the contents into a passing trash can, “No? Then ‘yew’ don’t drink it. All sorts of folk in the ‘Verse, Abigail, and some get their kicks roofie-in’ redheads what just discovered alcohol. [i]Dohn-ma?[/i]”

“Roofie?”  Abby’s jaw dropped; sure’n she’d heard about ‘roofies.’  Uncle Bob called it “slippin’ a Mickie inta yer drink,’ but ain’t never got past tha ‘what’ tah the ‘why.’  Cap’n ain’t said it in so many words, but he didn’t hafta.  She could hear it in ‘is tone…see it in ‘is eyes.  “I got it,” the girl nodded.  “Thank yew.  That coulda…yew know,” she cut ‘er own self off.  “Thank yew, Cap’n.”

“Now,” the captain let his herding arm fall, “Let’s get you another, mm?” he said as he led the deckhand up into the loft whose platform spread into another bough of the massive tree Bungalow Bill’s called home.

Joe finished off his beer while waiting for the captain. He ordered another shot of rum and another local brew. The shot went down as easy as they always do, then he began sipping the beer. 

"It sneaks up on ya real easy, doesn't it?" Alana rhythmically  tapped the side of the glass with her fingertips, eyeing Hook as he made his way back with another beer. "I had to slow down if I wanted a shot at a fair match, but serves me right for downing them as quick as they come..." Still leaning on the table, she pushed the drink aside and interlocked her fingers in front of her. "So you been here before, you glad you back for a few days?"

Joe noticed the doctor leaning against the table, causing him to smile. “What’s up, Doc!?” Joe asked Alana. “It sure does sneak up on ya’. Ah don’ know if ah could go on without it, ya’ know?” Apparently she hadn’t noticed the shot of rum he knocked back at the bar before starting into his second beer. “This place is OK. Ah don’t mind it. It can be fun here if you know where ta look. I really enjoyed mah time on Persphone before signing onto the China Doll, but ah sort of wore out mah welcome there and had to leave. The timing was perfect. Ahm better off if ah keep busy.”

"I get what you mean, who knows how long I would have been wandering 'round had the good captain himself not offered me a spot in his ship." Alana took the first sip in a while, the glass wet with condensation. Once she forced it down, she freed her hand to wipe it dry on one of her pant legs. 

[hider=Rack ‘em Up]
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HkSkjnBJNQ
[/youtube][/hider]

“Good to see you, here, Doc. I’ll rack ‘em up. You can break, OK?” Joe set his beer down on a nearby table and pushed the button that automatically racked the virtual balls. They were detectable by the pool cue and their impact translated well onto the table. It was not like a real game of pool, but Joe Hooker had never played on a real table.

So she was breaking again. That prompted memories of her previous game with Cal and how much fun she'd had, even before the victory they had bet on. But now, after alcohol had taken its natural course to deteriorate her skills, who knows how sloppy she'd be. "You're a sneaky one, Hook," she nodded to herself as she went for a stick. "I will probably blow it and hand you the advantageous start but it's okay, I can only bounce back stronger."
 
With stick in hand, she walked past him to finally break, her drink forgotten about on the table behind them. She wasn't so much focusing to line up the perfect shot but she did concentrate enough to look like a more sober version of herself. When she did finally take the shot, she was happy with the results. None of the balls went in but the spread was more decent than she was expecting, which needless to say was a pleasant surprise.
 
“Nice, break, Doc,” Joe complimented her. He focused on the table looking for a shot. The striped balls had a nice dispersion. He leaned in to take a shot on the nine in the side. He focused down the length of the cue, set up the shot, pulled back gently on the cue and sharply pushed forward. The cue ball rolled gently forward, tapped the nine and rolled easily in the side. The eleven was  set for a high bank shot on the corner, but he would need low English to pull the cue back to line up on the fifteen on the opposite pocket. Joe looked down the cue and lined up for a bank shot into the eleven to get around the one ball, which was in the way. He positioned the tip of the cue low on the cue and focused on the angle the cue would have to take to get around the one ball and hit the eleven. He gave just enough push with low English stopping the cue as soon as it impacted. The cue hit the rail, bounced toward the eleven, struck it on an odd angle and sent it lazily into a position on the far left corner. The ball did not drop into the pocket, but stopped right in front of the pocket, thoroughly blocking it.
 
“Oh well, can’t win ‘em all,” Joe remarked about the missed bank shot. The low English helped the miss along. Without the English he may have completed the shot, but then the cue would have been out of play for the follow on shot. “You get solids, doc.” Joe reached for his beer to take another sip. The beer was refreshing. He might need another shot of rum to go with it though.
 
"Can't win them all indeed..." Alana glanced over what she had to play with, and she realized she had a choice. Make the obviously easy shot from where the cue had come to rest which had lined up just about perfectly with one of her solids, or go for a slightly harder shot. The former would just about prevent her from getting another turn, but if she went for the harder shot and it went in, then she would get the chance to go again. [i]Can't win them all,[/i] Alana said to herself in her head, needing no convincing to go with her gut. She walked around and situated herself for the shot, but as she leaned forward on the table, she felt slightly light-headed. The sudden movement must have triggered it, though that didn't stop her as she paused for a moment and blinked away the sensation. The young woman then concentrated on slowing her breathing. She worked out the angle to the best of her abilities and then pulled the stick back before sending it forward to strike the cue ball. Alana stood, slowly this time, watching as lucky number 7 made its way towards the intended destination. Unfortunately, the ball stopped just a hair shy of the hole.
 
Alana sighed with disappointment. "If that ain't some otherworldly intervention, I don't know what is..."
 
“Ah,” Cal said, eyeing the table, then turning to Hook, “She hustled you, too?” Strand laid a consolatory pat on Joe’s back before shrugging off his coat. He couldn’t help but smile before he caught Alana’s disappointed expression, “What’s this?” he asked, tossing his coat on the back of a chair. “Could it be karma?”

Alana glanced his way, not in a mean kinda way but she did look like she wanted to say something, though there was some delay there. "I ain't done no harm to you to get a piece of karma, just because your skills are lacking..." She shrugged while walking past him, contemplating getting another sip of her drink.

The more Abby seen, the more she liked this place.  All about was diff’rent levels an’ ladders tah climb.  She followed Cap’n up one, thinkin’ all tha while on jest how much her eight year old self would a loved prancin’ about this place.  She come up top tah find a quiet little space what had its’ own bar an’ a couple pool tables.  Doc was liftin’ ‘erself up straight, cue stick in ‘er hands an’ a look said things ain’t exactly goin’ her way.  “Don’t wager jobs with ‘im,” the girl whispered to Alana as she threw Hook a grin.  “Tomorrah’s cargo loadin’.  Yah don’t want none ‘o’ that.”
 
"I would say I learned my lesson, but that's some lie. Nonetheless, I still know better than to wager against Hook [i]and[/i] alcohol. Or anyone and alcohol for that matter." Alana took it upon herself to casually place her forearm on the girl's shoulder, using that same hand to point at Hook. "At this point I can't tell if he's that good or I'm that bad tonight, though either way it's gonna be one hell of a morning for me tomorrow. But luckily since I am the go-to for any ailments, I have a feeling I'll be raiding my own supply closet before I'm off to bed." 
 
Joe wanted to say, ‘nice shot, Doc,’ but the ball did not drop and that could appear rude. So he did not.
 
He looked at the table and saw an opportunity to place the twelve ball near the hole where the eleven ball came to rest. He took the shot, the twelve struck the eleven, knocking it into the pocket leaving the twelve up against  the rail. It was not a shot he could follow up on but the fifteen was still hanging out on that other corner. He lined up for the fifteen, using some low English and sent the fifteen into the corner pocket with the cue stopping dead pan right where they impacted. From there he was able to get the twelve, which was up against the rail. The problem now was the fourteen, ten and twelve were all on the other end of the table, but hidden behind Alana’s balls. The best he could hope to do was to send the cue down the other end of the table and maybe it would line up for one of the three remaining balls. When he took the shot, the twelve did go in, but the cue ended up falling into a far corner pocket–a scratch!
 
“Your shot, Doc!” Joe spoke while retreating to the table his beer was sitting on. He took a sip and watched the doctor take her shot. “Nah, I don’t wanna wager nuttin with ‘er MIss Abby.”
 
Walking off from Abby, Alana watched as the cue ball flicked into existence in its original starting position. Since Hook had scratched, she guided the ball along to where she thought she had the best chance, and there were a few of those as she certainly had more options on the table than her opponent. Given her last shot was a flop, Alana decided to go the easy route now especially since she had an audience. Not that she was under pressure, but she'd rather not look like a complete amateur in front of the rest of the crew.
 
And it turns out she was right. The cue wasn't that far from the purple which wasn't that far from the middle hole opposite of her. Easy shot indeed, Alana couldn't help but smile as her bad streak was finally over, at least for the moment being. What followed was another shot, this time aimed at the yellow. Not as easy as the previous one but easy enough to have it go in too. "The tables may be turning..." she said to no one in particular, though she was sure they'd heard her. Unfortunately the celebration didn't last as she found herself without any good choices to follow through. "Hey Abby, is it cheating if I ask your opinion for what'd be considered a smart play at this point?"
 
“Mmmm?”  Abby turned ‘er eyes from her next vodka boom boom. “Honest, Doc,” she give ‘er head a shake what sent hair flyin’, “I been lost ever since Hook talked ‘bout ‘puttin’ English’ on a ball.”
 
…To Be Continued…