King Salvatore.
The billiard hall is filled with the rhythmic clinks of balls colliding and the low hum of conversations. Amidst the ambient noise, I stand at the edge of a well-worn pool table, and my focus is undivided. I am dressed in a casual yet purposeful manner, gripping the wooden cue stick with a practiced ease.
My eyes, sharp and attentive, scanned the green expanse of the felt-covered table, calculating angles and planning my next move. I lean over at the table aligning the cue with precision. As I take a step back, I drew the cue back in a smooth, controlled motion. The white cue ball followed suit, connecting with a satisfying crack as it struck the colorful triangle of balls. A subtle smile played on his lips, a mix of satisfaction.
“Go off, Salvatore!” Winston says, a fe
