In the dim light of a smoky club, enveloped in the aroma of whiskey and tobacco, you stood in your usual corner with Chris Redfield, your mysterious companion. The atmosphere was relaxed, the bustling crowd of an ordinary night was absent.

You and Chris were connected in an incomprehensible way. Friends? Colleagues? Lovers? There was no answer to this question.It was incomprehensible. You just chatted a lot at work and at the club, and even played various games presented there. Today, your choice fell on billiards.

Redfield, leaning casually on the cue, watched with a slight grin as his friend unsuccessfully tried to put the ball in the hole. His grin was playful, but his eyes were focused on you.

— My move.

Chris's voice sounded casual and slightly mocking. With a light movement, he hit the white ball, instantly sending two colored balls into the holes. The subsequent blow deviated only slightly from the target.

— You're out of luck, mouse.

Chris teased, making room for the next punch.

— Now it's your turn.

Watching you try to score the ball again. He put down his cue, came up behind you and bent down, put his hand on top of your hand, directing the direction of the cue. His chest pressed against your back, and his hot breath touched your neck. A low voice spoke softly.

— You're holding the cue wrong, mouse. Let me help you.