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“No offense, but I didn’t ask for company,” Falcon told Jinx, lining up a shot at the nine-ball.
The Joes could often be found at Rhonda’s, a pool hall located an hour’s drive from their homebase, an island of almost-civilization out there in the desert. They kept the tables busy, those nights duty wasn’t chaining them to the base. This evening, Falcon had been alone at the corner table, duffel bag packed with clothes and toiletries still resting inside his jeep, practicing a game of Three Ball.
He could’ve extended his bereavement leave; wasn’t sure why he declined the General’s offer. Didn’t know why he hadn’t returned to base, either. Uncomfortable at home, uneasy about returning to work, not particularly invested in this solo billiards match…Falcon recognized the sour mood, just hoped it wouldn’t last.
“Didn’t even know you’d be here, soldier,” Jinx responded, stepping out of his way as he maneuvered towards the opposite side of the table. “Things were slow, so I came here to break Sci-Fi’s top score on Space Commandos.”