Vince - Billiard room with Bo and Marcus<br/><br/>The pool table. One white ball. One cue stick. One triangle rack. Fifteen target balls. Six pockets.<br/><br/>It spoke about challenges in a way that a man unconsciously understood. It gave immediate feedback about decisions he made right from the beginning.  Showing skill and strength as he chose his shots. Every straight game taught a man the price of both temporary and permanent solutions. Gambling. Sure misses and one in a million chances. The triumph of victory and the agony of defeat.<br/><br/>Every shot new. Every choice different. It was life on a table with six pits and lots of ricochets.  A game Vince had watched curiously from time to time, like the truths that are taught to boys about women.<br/><br/>Vince eyed the cue sticks racked on the wall. He turned to the other two men and noticed several blue chalk boxes lined along the rail. It was the mischief that came to his rescue.<br/><br/>“Me game’s darts, an if aye were playin darts aye’d offer yah ah cuban,” He said reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a slim metal cigar case.<br/><br/>“Oscura,” Vince said as he held out the case of six dark rich cigars. “Cigars anyone?”<br/><br/>He took one himself and spoke while he waited for the other two men.<br/><br/>"Tose cue sticks are ah might bigger tan ah dart," He said with a chuckle, "So how do yah know which tah choose?"<br/><br/>