lyrasoze@hotmail.com

AN: Hi everyone. So, here we have the song fic that I wrote for the

SMRFF Lyric Wheel. I heartily recommend all the fics produced by that

particular Lyric Wheel. Check 'em out at http://lyricw.lunap.com/

Without further ado...

Disclaimer: The song belongs to Marcy Playground and the nice people

who wrote it. Sailor Moon and all the trademark entails belong to a set

of rather wealthy men and one creative and wealthy woman. Cheers.

Comin' Up From Behind

By Lyra Matsuoka

Rated PG-13 (language and themes)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Darien Chiba was uncertain which part of the pool hall made it so

entertaining.



It could have been the atmosphere, cigarettes lending a smoky tinge to

smell and a prismatic quality to the lights; nothing like waxing poetic about

the only thing that made his eyes water. Or it might have been green-topped

tables lit by cheap and slightly garish stained glass lamps. The sound of

clicking billiard balls and people shouting at the television screen were ever

present. Or perhaps the people, characters from all walks of life who strolled

into the establishment to play pool, meet friends, and sometimes to break up

with their significant other. Darien allowed a half smile to shape his mouth,

remembering the last time a man had fought with his girlfriend in the hall.



It couldn't have been good for that man's ego to end the altercation with

a trashcan on his head.



His thought process was interrupted by an unceremonious 'clunk' on the table in front of him. Straightening slowly, Darien looked across the table at

his friend Andrew, whose attention had shifted to the entrance.



"Punctuality, the forgotten art."



"Haven't you heard?" Darien quipped. "The male race is protesting unfair

pigeon-holing by our feminine counterparts by being as late as possible whenever

possible."



"I heard about that. The longest protest in history," Andrew finished with

a straight face. He held it for five seconds before breaking down into laughter.



"Ladies and gentlemen, a new record," Darien deadpanned as he reached for

his beverage. He waited for Andrew to calm down before asking, "Am I allowed to

ask what you bought me?"



"It's beer. Don't ask questions, just enjoy."



"Yes, sir, sergeant sir."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ah, She's an eight ball,

She's a'rollin faster than a white wall,

She's got an avalanche packed into a snowball,

She's a losin all the links,

She's like a stonewall,

She's loaded up,

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*



As he lifted the glass to his lips, Darien surveyed the crowd. There were

the usual people...those who had gathered at the pool hall since time eternal

and would probably haunt the place after they died. The bartender was someone

new, but he didn't seem to have trouble keeping up with the drink orders being

shouted at him over the groans and spontaneous cheers that the televised

football game seemed to produce.



"Hello there, gentlemen!" came the cheery salutation. Greg and Chad had

arrived, good spirits and the promise of an entertaining evening sparkling in

their eyes.



"Shall we skip right to the interesting portion of our evening?"



Greg nodded and Chad grinned. Darien rolled his eyes and took another

drink.



Chad held up a hand first. "Pause for a moment. Who bought the first

round?" Andrew raised one finger from his glass and he drank. "All right then.

I'll take the second round. Greg, do you want the third or the fourth?"



"Third."



"I'll take the fourth," Darien volunteered. Looks ranging from sardonic

amusement to mock horror turned his way. He grinned. "What did I say?"



"You can pay, but we get to select the beverage," Greg stated calmly.



"Careful boys, or I may start to believe that you find my taste in

cocktails lacking."



"Not at all, my good fellow," Chad interjected. "However, the majority of

us like to retain most of the nerve endings and taste buds in our mouths."



"Drinking lighter fluid is something that must be planned for."



"I only drink lighter fluid on very special occasions," Darien inserted.

His protestations were met with shaking heads.



"Darien, straight alcohol with a splash of orange juice is the same

consistency as lighter fluid. For God's sake, you could strip paint with your

version of a Manhattan."



"Could and does," Chad interjected. "He should market that mix as a

cleaning solution."



Darien shook his head and took another drink.



"So," he interjected, "is someone going to hand over his driver's license

and receive pool cues and triangle in return?"



All eyes turned to Chad, whose eyes were glued to the stick figures

running around a green square on the television screen. "Right, I'll go get the

stuff," he muttered. Greg raised an eyebrow as Chad navigated the clumps of

people without ever taking his eyes off the screen.



"How does he do that?" Greg mused. No one answered. Three minutes later,

Chad returned, pool cues in one hand, triangle dangling around one wrist. Andrew

pushed himself back from the round counter and joined Chad by the green felt

covered table. Darien and Greg watched as Andrew broke, sending the red solid

spinning into the bottom left corner pocket.



"Should we flip a coin to see who plays the winner?" Greg joked. Darien

grinned and glanced toward the door. Greg's eyes followed his and they sat

watching the people who entered. Chad sauntered over as Andrew contemplated his

next move.



"Pick a number," Chad threw out.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She's the underdog,

Gonna take a mighty swipe

At the high horse,

While'a sippin on her tricks

In a pitfall,

Makin eyes at the girls like bullfrogs,

I'm telling you, sir,

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Come again?" Greg asked, bewildered.



"Pick a number. Something between one and ten."



"Four," Greg said, shrugging his shoulders.



"Good. Now, watch the door. Fourth woman to come through that door is the

one you are going marry."



Darien laughed aloud and Greg snorted. Chad shrugged.



"I never pretended to be a Mattel Game Creator. But this is a fun game to

play. You'll be laughing in two minutes, I promise."



"Chad, do you want to play pool or do you want to talk?"



"Duty calls," Chad said, turning on his heel and marching back to the

game.



"They play pool they way you play chess," Darien commented.



"No, Andrew plays pool the way that I play chess. Chad sees the shot and

takes it. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't, but he always takes

the shot," Greg commented, swinging his eyes to the game. Turning back slowly,

Greg fixated on the door.



"One," he said aloud. Darien swung around just in time to see one of the

waitresses enter.



"I can't believe you are actually going to play that game."



"I haven't got anything better to do," Greg said, still focused on the

door. "Two..."



Two was a rather leggy brunette.



"Three..."



A teenager in a flowered skirt and French braid peeked around the doorjamb

and stepped hesitantly inside.



"Is she old enough to be here?" Darien asked, concerned. The girl looked

around and waved to someone behind them, a smile lighting her face. Less than

ten seconds later she was joined by a young man of about the same age and the

two of them left, holding hands.



"Guess not."



"Four...nope, that's a guy. Okay. Four..."



An old woman in a florescent pink jacket with a lime green scarf around

her head stepped through the door. She trotted to a table and exchanged high

fives with a group of ladies dressed just as brightly.



"Well, at least she'd be fun to hang out with," Greg said, fighting to

keep a smile from his face. Darien didn't bother trying.



"And I'll bet she could be persuaded to lend you her jacket for a Friday

night with the guys," Darien added.



Greg chuckled lightly and then turned toward Darien. "Pick a number, my

man."



"Four million, three hundred thousand forty two," Darien supplied, never

missing a beat.



"You stand up comedian you," Greg supplied quickly.



"I've been offered a guest spot on 'Whose Line Is It Anyway," Darien

finished off, his eyes on the pool game. Andrew sauntered over while Chad

contemplated the angle necessary to send the striped blue ball into the right

side pocket.



"Darien had a girlfriend, right up until three hours ago."



"Oh, really?" Greg asked, raising his eyebrows in inquiry. "And who was

the lovely lady?"



"Lovely, yes. Lady is questionable," Andrew muttered under his breath.

Darien flipped him a snide look and reached for his glass.



"I will thank you to keep your opinions to yourself."



"I didn't say a word," Andrew replied innocently.



"What's her name?" Greg asked.



"It started with a B," Darien said before taking a drink.



"She thought they were an item," Andrew said, looking back at the pool

table. "Chad, take the shot for God's sake."



"How long have you been seeing her?" Greg turned his eyes to the pool

table and Darien followed his gaze. All three men watched as Chad slid the pool

cue behind his back and tapped the cue ball with just the right amount of

pressure. The striped blue rolled into the side pocket, and Darien, Andrew and

Greg all applauded as Chad disentangled himself and took a comic bow.



"They'd been out a few times. She seemed convinced that an engagement ring

was just lurking in his pocket, ready to jump out at the first single woman who

happened along. Darien was forced to inform her otherwise," Andrew stated as he

sauntered back to the game.



"And now I am free to enjoy the evenings entertainments with you fine

people," Darien raised his glass in a mocking toast.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She's comin up from,

comin up from, comin up,

comin up from behind,

Yeah,

She's comin up from,

comin up from, comin up,

comin up from behind,

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*



"Pick a number, oh great one," Greg prompted.



"Two," Darien gave in with a sigh.



"Excellent. Now we sit back and watch."



People were still pouring through the door, but most of them were of a

male persuasion. After ten false starts, and a few comments revolving around the

ongoing pool game, a woman stepped through the door. Her blood red hair hung to

her knees and her green business suit snapped of control.



"Damn," Darien said, turning in his chair. Greg watched the woman glance

at the crowd surrounding the bar and then twitch her gaze to the pool tables.

Her cold green eyes paused for a moment on him and then continued on. After a

few minutes, she stomped her foot, turned on her heel and left in a huff.



"The ex, I presume?"



"Yes indeed," Darien said, turning back around. "Though 'ex' is a bit of

an overstatement. Five dates over the course of four weeks does not constitute a

relationship."



"She's a looker."



"Aren't they all?"



"With you. Let me ask you something. Have you ever, and I do mean ever,

had a woman turn you down?"



"When I was in the second grade, a classmate of mine refused to kiss me

when we were both riding the merry-go-round. As I recall, she punched me in the

nose and ran off. Does that count?"



"Sure does. Any other time?"



"Seven hours ago a female vice president told me that I was a sorry excuse

for a man and that I was the world's only living heart donor before she quit and

slammed out of my office."



"Good for her. But that's not turning you down. That's putting you in your

place. I don't think that counts. Any other time?"



"Nope."



"Woman always say yes to you?"



"Yup."



"You are confident that you can charm any woman at any time?"



Darien shrugged.



"Then buy number two a drink," Greg said, pointing at the door with his

index finger.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You'd like her hanging

Like a sneaker on a live wire, dangling,

While your Wall Street pockets are jangling

With the hollow jackpot of your rich kid games,

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Darien looked toward the door and raised his eyebrows in appreciation.

Maybe the evening wouldn't be a total loss. Number two walked through the door,

confidence in her stride. Long golden hair was swept back from her face and

secured with a ponytail. Her clothes were basic, shorts and a tank-top,

comfortable shoes; Darien watched as she walked briskly to the bar, leaning

against it while she watched the door. She was waiting for someone...a date? He

couldn't make out her face, but she seemed animated and excited.

Shortly thereafter two other woman walked in and joined her. A night with the

girls...that was better than a boyfriend in some ways. The blond woman conversed

with her two friends before nodding and gesturing toward a sign on the wall.

Darien glanced at the poster and then did a double take.

'0 DAYS TILL THE POOL COMPETITION'

It appeared that at one time, a pad of paper with numbers written on it

had been stationed above the '0'. Now that the zero was prominently displayed,

it was the day of the infamous Pool Competition. Darien made a mental note to

smack himself. No wonder Andrew had been so insistent about visiting the pool

hall tonight. Fabulous.

Darien watched as the tall brunette who had been Greg's number two walked

over to the front desk and collected three pool cues and three square sheets of

paper. Numbers, no doubt. Looking at the clock, Darien noted that it was

8:30...half an hour before the competition was scheduled to begin. He took

another drink and stood.

*~*~*~*~*~*



Serena Tsukino turned slightly, allowing her friend Lita better access to

her back.



"Stick me with that pin and you shan't live to see another day."



"Terrifying words, coming from someone substantially shorter than me,"

Lita muttered, concentrating on the number. "You start at table five, and you

play number six. Looks like the numbers are going fast."



"Perfect," Serena said, rubbing her palms together. "I hope there are a

few new competitors. I need a challenge."



"Challenge...right. I'll see if I can dig up an award winning pool player

shall I?"



"You are not nearly as amusing as you believe yourself to be," Serena said

with a sniff, turning her nose up at Raye. Raye made a face in return.



"Now one of you should stick out her tongue and the celebration of

maturity will be complete," Lita put in dryly. Serena smiled and Raye stuck out

her tongue, sending all three women into gales of laughter. Raye turned away,

scanning the bar.



"I need to unwind," Serena groaned, rolling her head back and to the

sides. "I've had the day from hell."



"What happened?" Lita inquired.



"You haven't heard? Serena quit her job."

"I thought you loved your job," Lita said with surprise.

"I did. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. It was time to

expand my horizons, visit new places, meet new people..."

"Are you enlisting in the Navy?" Lita said, a smile on her face. Serena

grinned back.

"Well, he tried to fire her," Raye put in.

"I beat him to the punch. I am the Master of my Destiny and all that,"

Serena finished, looking down at her wrists. "I left my watch at home. Anyone

know what time it is?"



"Gorgeous man at 3 o'clock," Raye said, turning so that Serena could

attach the number to her back. "And he's heading this way."



Serena turned her wrists in circles, loosing the muscles in preparation

for the competition. Serena glanced back over her shoulder and chuckled, looking

at the man Raye had deemed 'gorgeous'. He was that, but as Serena's eyes

traveled upward, her jaw dropped.



"Oh for God's sake," she snapped, turning around quickly. "Pretend I'm not

here."



"Why would we want to do that?" Lita asked absently.



"The good looking guy is heading this way," Raye trilled.



"The 'good looking' guy is my ex-boss!" Serena hissed, turning her face

down.



"Not the one who tried to fire you..." Lita began.



"Tried? What tried? There was no 'tried'. He *would* have fired me if I

hadn't beaten him to the punch by quitting."



"Remind me why he was set to fire you."



"She offended a client and lit a pile of important papers on fire," Raye

offered, a wicked grin on her face.



"That is *not* what happened," Serena whispered. "I presented the strategy

to said client, and the man appeared interested, but when I offered him the

contract he tried to hit on me. I turned him down and he got upset."



"You told him he was a pathetic excuse for a man and that he should crawl

back under his rock."



"I refuse to dignify that with a response. And the contract was placed a

bit to close to the ashtray. It was an accident. I swear."



"And when she refused to apologize, the boss man tried to threaten her

into offering said apology. But she quit instead."



"Cleaned out my desk, left the office and called a headhunter. I start my

new job in three days. And now the man himself is heading my direction. What

have I done to deserve this?"



"Karma," Raye intoned sagely. "What was his name, again?"



"Chiba. Darien Chiba."



"God, it looks like he's entering the competition," Lita said, watching as

Mr. Chiba approached the desk and handed over the entry fee. "Number twelve. At

least he won't be playing you, Serena."



"Thank God for small favors," Serena said, relief in her voice.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's a longshot,

She's got a troop and a tongue for a slingshot,

But she's takin' steady aim

At the bigshots,

It's hard to miss the rolling-polies

On the blacktop,

You better watch your turf,

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*



Darien walked closer to the group of women, his eyes skimming over all of

them. The tall brunette had her back to him, the raven- haired lady in red was

looking him over, and the blond was...hiding her face?



Curiosity piqued, Darien walked over to the front desk and handed over the

entrance fee for the pool competition. He accepted his number and the pin that

went with it, and turned toward the blond.



"Excuse me. I don't suppose you could help me pin this on?"



There was no response from the blond, though the taller brunette began to

cough rather violently.



"Can I get you anything? Water?" Darien asked. The brunette shook her head

twice and continued coughing. The second brunette came around to stand beside

the blond.



"Hi. I'm Raye," she said, proffering a hand. Darien shook it firmly.



"Lita," gasped the taller brunette. The longer Darien listened to her

cough, the more it sounded like laughter. Darien glanced at the blond, waiting

for her to turn around and introduce herself.



"I'm going to get a drink. You guys want anything?" she asked instead.

Lita and Raye both stared at her, and Darien resisted the urge to laugh.



"No thanks, Serena," Raye said. The blond stiffened, and turned slightly

to glare at her friend. When Darien saw her profile, he lost all semblance of

his good humor. He remembered that face. No wonder he hadn't recognized her

before; he had never seen this woman in anything but a power suit and sensible

heels.



"Well, well, Ms. Tsukino. How nice to see you again."



He watched the line of her back stiffen before she turned to face him.

"Hello, Mr. Chiba. Fancy seeing you here; I didn't know you deigned to mingle

with the commoners."



Darien smiled slightly. If it was a fight she wanted, he was more than

willing to accommodate her. "Set anything on fire recently, Ms. Tsukino?"



"Not in the last five hours," Serena replied, all sweetness and light.

Darien clamped his teeth together.



"I find that hard to believe. After all, you seem to have a talent for

destroying things. Tell me, does your current employer carry liability insurance

on you?"



Lita and Raye raised their eyebrows and blanched. Tapping Serena on the

back in farewell, they scurried into the quickly forming crowd and vanished.

Serena didn't seem to notice they'd gone.



"My current employer is not an insensitive, money-driven automaton who

puts the accounts above the employees."



Darien looked down at her, seeing the flush in her cheeks and the furious

sparkle in her eyes. He knew that his own eyes were cold, deadly cold. The two

of them faced off, anger that had been held in check now straining for release.



"We never had a chance to finish our discussion, Ms. Tsukino."



"Oh, is the boss-man annoyed because he didn't get to put the Vice

President of New Accounts in her place? I'll send you a sympathy card."



"Because of you, my firm lost a prime account."



"My heart bleeds."



"You..." Darien was cut off by the announcement that the pool competition

was about to begin. Serena stood slightly behind him, watching the hand waving

of the announcer and the excited cheering and dancing of the waiting crowd.



"Did I surprise you, Mr. Chiba? Did you think I would apologize to that

snake in an Armani suit when I hadn't done anything to be ashamed of? Did you

think I would be so charmed by your looks and your money and all the power you

casually wield that I would cower before you?"



He didn't want to admit that he had expected just that. No one had ever

quit before. He had expected her to cave. The threats...well, he wasn't sure if

those had been genuine. She had slammed out of his office before he had a chance

to decide whether or not to make good on them. He took a step back and looked

down at her.



"I wouldn't have fired you."



"Liar, liar."



"True enough. You didn't give me a chance to decide on a course of

action."



"I like to change occupations on my terms, thank you very much."



"I never would have guessed."



The sarcasm in his tone was just enough to make her glare at him.



"Do you hold a personal grudge against me, Ms. Tsukino?"



"Not at all, Mr. Chiba. You have never been anything but professionally

cool and inhumanly distant."



"I'm not sure whether I've been complimented or insulted."



"Whichever makes you feel best about yourself."



"You really aren't afraid of me, are you?"



"What possible reason could I have to be afraid of you? You are neither my

boss nor a friend of my boss. I hold no stock in your firm and I don't give a

damn about your personal life."



"Ouch."



"Would you rather I lied to you?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She's comin up from,

comin up from, comin up,

comin up from behind,

Yeah,

She's comin up from,

comin up from, comin up,

comin up from behind,

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*



"I don't believe I have ever had an employee quit on me before," Darien

mused. "I have to twist arms to thin out my typing pool."



"Well, the medical you offer can't be beat. I'm going to miss the free

contacts."



"Why did you leave?"



"Your client annoyed me. Your secretary annoyed me. You annoyed me. I hate

to be annoyed."



"And with such logic, life must be smooth sailing."



"All right, Mr. Chiba. As fun as dancing around this verbal boxing ring

has been, I think it's time to call it a night. I have a competition to get to."



"Ah, yes. The competition. Enjoy, Ms. Tsukino."



"Have a marvelous time, Mr. Chiba."



Serena sauntered of to find her friends while Darien stood there, number

in hand. Shaking his head, he returned to his table. Greg, Chad and Andrew

converged on him the moment he sat down.



"If I didn't know better, I could have sworn you just had it out with that

lovely blond," Andrew said.



"That 'lovely blond' was a former employee of mine. She quit a while

back."



"Wait, wait, wait. Is that the VP of New Accounts who torched a carefully

and painstakingly prepared contract after telling the owner of a multi-million

dollar computer software company that he should, and I quote, 'crawl back under

his rock'?"



"It was slightly more graphic than that, but yes, the very same."



"You sound rather calm about the whole thing. Two hours ago you were

livid."



"She was right. I was insensitive and focused on the bottom line. And Big

Rich Computer Man probably gave her good reason to set something on fire."



"I don't believe it. You spent seven minutes fighting with this woman and

now you see things clearly? I think he's coming down with something. The flu,

maybe," Chad joked. He and Greg went back to the pool table, shooting balls into

random pockets and cheering when the crowd around them cheered. Andrew stayed

behind.



"What's up, man? You look like you've just been told that all the share

holders tripled their investments."



"She just doesn't fit," Darien mused. "Not into any box I have available."



"Really?"



"Really."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had her hanging

Like a sneaker on a live wire, dangling,

While your golden-lined pockets were jangling

With the hollow jackpot of your wretched games,

She caught your sick lie,

It's creepin in the shadow of your white smile,

Lurking underneath the cover of your bedroom eyes,

Well, you're greasin' up the lance for your small-fry,

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*



The contest had been in full swing for several hours. With two players at

a table, and fifteen tables, the thirty-two competitors had slowly been working

their way toward the center table and the golden 8-ball trophy. Darien had

beaten his first two opponents easily. Now he was playing Lita, and she was

better than he had expected. She played hard; taking shots that might seem

impossible and looking for unseen angles. She was gracious in both victory and

defeat, smiling wryly as he sank the eight ball into the left side pocket.



"Well played, Darien, well played."



"The next round put him in contest with the second brunette, Raye. She

played with an almost supernatural grace, seeing advantages where none should

exist and sinking impossible shots with ease. Luck was with him on that round.

He broke, and two solid balls went spinning into the bottom left and right

pockets. Raye scratched twice, giving him the opportunity to sink two more

solids into different pockets. Still, by the time the table was clear of solid

balls, Raye had been attempting to sink the eight ball for her last three turns.

When Darien shot the eight ball into the top right hand pocket, Raye shook her

head wryly.



"Congratulations, Mr. Chiba. And good luck on the next round. You're going

to need it."



Darien turned to face the final table and saw Serena standing near the

top.



"Just you and me," she said, holding her cue firmly in one hand. The

referee arrived, quarter in hand.

"Heads," Serena called as he flipped it into the air.



"Heads it is. Lady breaks," the referee said, and set the balls into the

triangle. Serena broke, sending the balls skittering along the surface of the

table. The striped twelve sank into the bottom right hand pocket, and Serena

smiled. Another shot sank the striped nine, and another sank the striped seven.

Her fifth shot missed entirely. Darien took his shot and managed to scatter a

group of solids. The solid five sank into a pocket, and his next shot took out

the solid two and the solid six, but he scratched, and so Serena took her shot.

It wasn't long before the table was cleared of all but two balls.



The eight ball was sitting at an awkward angle. It wasn't surprising that

Serena was puzzling over how to take the shot. The crowd was silent, and they

were also standing back from the table. Everyone could see, but the observers

were giving the players room to move and make tricky shots. Darien approached

Serena carefully, wondering how sensitive she was about her playing space.



"Why did you quit so suddenly?" he felt compelled to ask.



"You were being a chauvinist pig. I did what had to be done."



"You could have just told me I was wrong."



"I did. Then I quit," her voice was low and so was his.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You wanna talk it up, do you?

Well you're floatin like a royal balloon -- oh,

Your ego's swollen to the size of the moon, well,

I think you found somebody to cut you down to size.

Well well,

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Do you always try to make such an impression?"

"It was a message you didn't seem to have received."

"What message was that?"

"That you are not always right."

He paused for a moment. That was unexpected.

"Well, that's one of the privileges of being the boss. When you are the

boss, you can be right all the time."

Serena laughed aloud and shook her head. "About business, yes; about

people, not so much. Eight ball in the corner," she said, tapping the bottom

left with her cue stick. Lining up she carefully drew back her cue stick and

tapped the cue ball with just the right amount of force. The ball went zinging

toward the pocket and bounced off the rim. There was a collective groan. Darien

waited for the balls to stop moving before he walked around to take his shot.

"You think I judge people?" he asked and he examined all the available

angles for his shot.

"Not in so many words. I think you wrap them up into little boxes and then

organize those boxes in your head so that everything makes sense. You like it

that way; it's orderly and impersonal. But people don't usually fit into those

boxes. You never seemed to understand that."

"You make me sound terribly obtuse."

"In a way. I don't want to lecture you. I'm not your mother. But you've

developed a very cold way of looking at the world. Everyone notices. Ask your

friends sometime," she suggested, shrugging her shoulders.

"It seems you believe yourself to be an authority on my life."

"You asked. I'm offering an opinion. Don't ask disgruntled former

employees what they think of you if you don't really want to know. And make your

shot, for God's sake."

Darien lined up the cue stick and prepared to shoot, leaning over the

wooden edge of the pool table. "Eight ball in the side."

"Do you enjoy being pigeon-holed?"

Darien's arm jerked slightly, sending the tip of the cue stick into the

felt topped surface of the pool table. He glanced back at the damage, noticing

that there was a good-sized rip in the green felt.

"You're going to have to pay for that," Serena said, shaking her head

slowly. "Clumsy, clumsy."

As she walked around to take the shot he had missed, Darien found himself

thinking back on the evening and the conversations he had participated in. "No.

I don't like being stereotyped. But people will place me in whichever category

they choose. It helps human beings to organize their minds and acquaintances."

Serena leaned over the table, drawing her cue stick back. "Or maybe it's the

worst excuse in the history of the known world for hiding behind a mask. Eight

ball in the side."

The cue stick tapped the cue ball with just the right amount of force and

the eight ball spun across the table and vanished into the pocket. Cheers

erupted, applause thundered, and someone yelled out "Fabulous display of

Newtonian physics". Serena saluted the crowd with her cue stick before leaning

it against the table.

Darien smiled and nodded. "I enjoyed the game, Ms. Tsukino."

"As did I, Darien."

"Have we progressed to first names?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"I just beat your ass into the ground. I'll call you what I like."

"Is the loser allowed to buy the winner a drink?"

"The winner is too gracious to turn down a free drink."

As Darien walked around the table, he reached into the side pocket and

retrieved the eight ball. Polishing it quickly, he presented it to Serena with a

flourish. She accepted with a strange expression on her face.

"No one can ever predict what the eight ball will do."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Yeah,

She's comin up from behind,

She's comin up from behind,

Yeah,

She's comin up from behind,

She's comin up from behind...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*