Play pool if he'll buy you drinks

"Uh, sure. If you'll buy me drinks," you say with a wink. He nods eagerly, motioning you toward the pool table while he rushes off to the bar. 'God men are easy,' you think with a smirk.

Standing in a brightly lit pool of light - courtesy of a pair of twin fluorescant lights mounted overhead - the table has obviously seen much better days. Its surface is more pocked than an unwashed fifteen-year-old's face. A number of the tears in the felt remind you of clawing fingernails, and where it isn't torn it's stained with numerous unidentifiable blotches. Someone seems to have scratched hash marks in the side, beside which the name 'Sam James' and a date have been scratched.

You grimace briefly, but the smirk comes back as you spot the two losers huddled by the table waiting for their friend.

"Hi boys," you coo, winking at them to work them over. "I'm Jenny."

"Jenny," says the scruffier of the two, a man whose hair and beard both reach his shoulders, reminding you of a dog, while his clothes are hopelessly out of style. "I'm Kyle."

"Jenny," the other echoes, bigger than the other, his head and face stubbly like he hadn't shaved them in too long. "I'm Trevor."

"Well boys, your friend was going to buy me drinks if I played with you. He didn't tell me his name, though," you pout.

"Name's Josh," the man says, coming back with a drink you don't recognize as well as three beers. He hands two of them to Kyle and Trevor while keeping the third beer for himself. Handing the remaining drink to you he motions to the table. "Let's get on with things."