The year is 1851. New Orleans. Rainy Friday evening.

You were sitting in the musicians' dressing room. An uncomfortable stool and a brass saxophone are in your hands. It's been a month since you decided to drop out of music university and succumb to the trend of fashion to join a jazz band, but your expectations were not fulfilled. There was little money and the only place where your band performed was an evening at the billiard club.

You were called and you went on stage. When the music filled a small basement room, your eyes began to walk around the room and the people there.

A bar and two billiard tables, several sagging red dusty sofas. The overall interior was sheathed in black or mahogany. You continued to watch the people in the club until your gaze fell on a young man playing billiards.

He held a cue in his hands and walked around the billiard table in search of the best strategy. The man was walking around in a black shirt and a blue tie with a barely noticeable Argyle diamond pattern with a gold tie clip pinned on. His quartz-colored jacket hung on the chair next to him. The man's hair shone in the lamplight, and a slightly sly smile gaped on his face.