SPLITAPARTS: lessons in love ✔️

The Night Off

Sirius walked down the walkway and passed by three pubs on his way to his favorite. He turned the corner onto a quiet street to the white building, framed in black. He opened the door and the barman looked up at him and smiled. He was missing his time with Cassie as Padfoot, knowing that she was probably cuddled up to Lupin as he read to her some boring historic novel, even though he made Remus promise that she was to practice both her cello and her drums.

"Ah, Ryan! Long time, no see mate!"

Sirius smiled as he nodded. "Hello Steve!" He looked around the pub and noticed that it was quiet with only a handful of patrons drinking. There were two couples having a lively discussion over the latest football games leading toward the upcoming championship games and three lone drinkers. He glanced over toward the billiard table and was pleased that there was a lone man who appeared to be in his late thirties, maybe early forties playing solo with no queue in sight. He glanced past the billiard table and saw that there was an attractive blond woman sitting at a near-by table watching him. The billiard table was the only reason he frequented the small out of the way pub. All of the local pubs had darts, however billiards was a favorite game of his and this pub was the only pub he knew of in London that had an inexpensive table that never seemed to be crowded. He picked up his pint and withdrew a leather case from his jacket and opened it, producing a cue stick as he watched the stranger play; he was impressed that the man was doing so well with a house stick. He withdrew the three pieces and quickly assembled the stick with quick twists of his wrists. Looking down the length of the stick, he spun it slowly, making certain there was no warping of the wood. He placed ten pence on the edge of the table. "Mind if I join you," Sirius asked.

"No, not at all," the man said as he smiled. "Rack 'em up,"

"Oh no, please finish your game."

"Thanks," the man said.

Sirius took the small blue cube of chalk and polished the pad on his cue stick. He wanted to say something about the fact that the man was American, but Cassie had explained to him one night during a Friday evening game of snap, pizza, and beer for him and soda pop for her, that Americans didn't like to be reminded that they were indeed foreigners, or god-forbid, tourists, and so, he remained silent. He had never had a pizza delivered before and enjoyed having the pizza brought to the suite and not having to run out after it.

The man finished his game and returned the cue ball to the center of the table and smiled as Sirius placed the coin in the slot and pushed it into the table, causing the balls to fall. He rounded the side and crouched down and pulled the balls out and placed them on the red felt tabletop three at a time.

He racked the balls quickly, placing the eight ball just below an empty spot on top of the rack and shook the rack so that the ball fell into place. Cassie had complained that most people in America think eight ball is the only game in billiards and it drove her and her father crazy. It then dawned on him that he hadn't taken her to the pub to shoot a quick game. He made a mental note to do that soon. "Eight ball," Sirius asked, just to get his reaction.

"Sure," the man said shrugging his shoulders.

"Splendid," Sirius replied.

The man broke the rack and sank a solid and smiled. He took his next four shots as Sirius watched carefully.

"Thanks for making room," Sirius joked. He looked at the table hard; the man didn't leave him with a shot; he tipped his pint to his lips and he wasted a shot and left the man a clear play for three more. This left him with only the eight ball, which he missed. Sirius thought he felt sorry for him, which didn't sit well with him. "Care to make this interesting," Sirius asked.