"Son of a bitch," she cursed under her breath as the smarmy, blue-skinned bastard dropped the nine-ball into the corner pocket. "You fucking hustled me!"
Leaning on his cue, he sneered at her. "What'd you expect, kid? I'm guessing you're not good for it."
Plasma lit up her hands, humiliated she hadn't seen the trick coming.
"Now that's interesting," he drawled. "I knew I recognized you."
"I'll get your damn money."
"I don't want money anymore."
"What do you want?"
"You." He rolled his eyes at the face she made. "Oh, grow up. Not like that. I need a sidekick."