Weekly Pool Game

DISCLAIMER: No one involved in the writing of the FF Heroes Lounge owns any of the characters or any of the settings that might be mentioned, aside from the lounge itself. I own the FF Heroes Lounge, and the concept thereof, tho other writers may come to own specific rooms. We are not out to make money off these fictions, or attempt to infringe on Square-Enix’s copyright. This is all in good fun, and should be taken as such.


Vincent and Cid were already at the pool table when Irvine walked in the door. If you asked, none of them could tell you when the weekly pool game at the lounge became tradition, but it was there. And none of them were ever late for it.


Cid dropped a gil into the pool table as soon as he saw the cowboy come in, and started racking up the balls while Irvine got a beer and walked over.


“Evenin’ Valentine, Highwind.” The cowboy sharpshooter tossed his hat onto a nearby chair. It interfered with him aim, or so he said.


“Cid has called the first game,” Vincent said, moving the hat and draping himself over the chair. “Against you.”


Irvine smirked and took a swig from his bottle. “Fine by me. Must want to get beaten that badly tonight.”


“What the fuck ever,” the pilot replied, lighting a cigarette. “I kicked your ass last week and I’ll do it again tonight.”


“Keep telling yourself that, old man. Maybe it will come true.” Irvine walked to the rack of cues and chose one. He chalked the tip smugly as Cid did the same.


“You’re goin’ down, punk,” Cid told him. “Who’s breaking?”

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Two hours later, the score was two games to Cid, two games to Irvine and three to Vincent.


Vincent was just lining up a shot at the eight ball to win this game too, when a slightly slurred greeting interrupted him.


“Heya, Valentine! Howw’s it goin’?” Reno sauntered up to the table, drunk enough to be obvious, but not drunk enough to stumble. Yet.


“Who the fuck let you in here!?” Cid exclaimed. “You ain’t no damn hero!”


“That’s ain’t what Cloud told Skye the other day when we came in together.” Reno flopped down across Irvine’s lap in the chair. “And she said we could come in whenever we wanted now.”


“Get offa me,” Irvine said, shoving Reno to the floor.


“Ah, why ya gotta be like that?” The drunken Turk picked himself up from the floor. “I’m just tryin’ to be friendly.”


“Man, I don’t even know you.” The cowboy held up his empty bottle. “I’ll be back. I gotta get another beer. And use the john.”


“Fine,” Vincent replied. “Its Cid’s game anyway. Corner pocket.” The red-eyed man took his shot with the eight ball and sunk it in a smooth motion.


“Hey,” Reno put in. “I wanna play.” He pulled two quarter-gil coins out of his pocket. “I’ll split the game.”


Vincent’s crimson gaze flicked over to Cid’s cerulean.


“Fuck,” the pilot replied. “I’ll play him. It’s my game anyway.”

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Another two hours later, they were out of quarters, Cid was out of cigarettes and Selphie was standing next to the pool table to collect her slightly buzzed boyfriend.


They had finished their weekly gaming session with three games to Cid, five to Vincent, two to Irvine and one to Reno. The cowboy was indignant; Cid had only one because Reno threw the curve off, he claimed. Vincent and Cid both chose not to mention the fact that it was Vincent who’d really won this week.


Reno slid up and draped an arm across each member of AVALANCH as the cowboy was dragged off by his tiny girlfriend. “So, you guys wanna come back to my place? We could have some fun.”


“Sorry, Reno,” Vincent said, ducking out of the Turk’s grasp. “You’re not my type. Goodnight, Cid.”


“See ya, Vinnie.” The blond pilot also ducked out from the Turk’s grasp. “Maybe some other night, Turk. Shera’s waitin’ for me at home.”


Reno pouted a little as he watched the pilot leave, then turned to the poker table in the center of the room, where Skye was playing poker with several guys he didn’t know yet.


“Hey, babe,” he said, walking over to her. “You wanna come over to my place after you close tonight?”


“You’re not getting any free drinks tonight, Reno. No matter how many times you offer to sleep with me.” The barkeep tossed a few chips into the middle of the table. “Call.”


Reno pouted as everyone at the table groaned. Three of Skye’s opponents folded.


“But, Skye…” he whined.


“They’ll be back next Tuesday, Reno.” She scooped up her winnings and headed back to the bar.


The Turk brightened as he took her place at the table.