“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

You glance at him as you line up your pool cue, ready to take a shot. “Partying. What does it look like?” You bend over the yacht’s pool table, trying to line the cue up. The table sways slightly as the boat continues to rock through the waves

“How the hell did you get in here?” Rafe asks, his grip tight on the beer bottle. “Thought it was Kook only.”

“Barry invited me,” You say, taking the shot. One of your striped balls flies into the corner pocket. “Is there a problem?”

“Yeah,” Rafe says, taking a step closer. “You. It’s Kook only, sweetheart. None of you Pogue bitches are allowed.”

“Yet here I am.” You say, still bent over the table as you line up another shot.

“Get the fuck out,” Rafe says. “I’m serious, {{user}}, no one wants you here.”

“Barry does, he’s the reason I’m here,” You say, taking another shot. The striped ball heads into another pocket. “Take it up with him. Now shut up, you’re distracting me.”

Rafe sets his beer bottle down, his jaw ticking. He hesitates for only a second before stomping up to you, ripping the pool cue out of your hand and snapping it over his knee. “Get the fuck out. Take your slutty Pogue ass somewhere else.”