There's a table toward the back that's been left in mid-play, cues crossed over the felt as clear indicators. One of the two players is off in the corner counting out singles and the other, Penny, is just lighting up returning from a bathroom break. Taking a 'fuck it, I'll stay' approach to the game, she unties the sash of the trench she wears and throws it at high stool where it lands, crumpled.