fandomhigh | Working the Long Con, Tuesday, First Period

They kept coming back. John was starting to get weird-ed out by this.

Class met in the Danger Shop today, which was modified to resemble a pool hall. "Welcome to the unofficial Land of the Hustle," he proclaimed, spreading his arms wide. "Today, we're learning how to shoot pool and take the money of idiots and college kids with more money than sense."

"Pool hustlers use deception and misdirection in order to win cash from inexperienced players -- or from skilled players inexperienced with the world of hustling. Now, there's a few different options for a skilled hustler, and some things to watch out for if you don't want to end up the wrong side of the bet."

"A hustler will usually play with a low-quality "house" cue stick provided by the pool hall, or an unadorned but high-quality personal cue that looks like one, known as a "sneaky pete." Or, with the nascence of local competitive league play in recent years, may play with a flashy-looking but evidently low-end personal cue, to give the impression that the hustler is a beginning league player. They will typically play a game or two for "fun" or for low bets -- a beer or equivalent amount of cash -- in order to check out the opponent and give the impression that money can easily be won, often losing on purpose with the intent of winning a much larger wager later against a predictably overconfident opponent. This is known as "sandbagging" or "dumping.""

"They will pocket some difficult and impressive shots or make surprisingly secure safety shots, the ones crucial for winning, while missing many simple ones, thus making early victories appear to be sheer luck and may pretend to be intoxicated, unintelligent, or otherwise impaired. When betting on trick shots, they may intentionally miss the first or several times and lose a small amount, then raise the bet to an amount well beyond the loss and succeed at the well-practiced feat."

"Many of these ploys can easily be mistaken for the honest faults of a less-than-exceptional player. The engendered doubt and uncertainty is what allows hustling to succeed, with the "faults" being dropped when a significant amount of money is at stake."

"Americans are partial to Eight-ball, so we'll start with that," he said, ~~handwavily~~ going over the rules. "So grab a partner, and work on your game."

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Corner pocket!

Isabela

Roscoe Kaan

Hyacinthe

Jalian d'Arsennette y ken Selvren

Frank Doyle

Kaylin Neya

Listen, start picking out a cue, John doesn't care.

Play against a classmate or a random ~~moddable-NPC~~ person in the joint. What techniques work for you? Or will you be the one to lose the bet?

Isabela she knew how to play this game, even if she hadn't played thisparticular game before.

Look, it even came with props and built in terrible lines to distract people with.

There was a version of this in Terre D'Ange as well. But playing the actual game was the last thing on Hyacinthe's mind as he sauntered over to Isabela, pool cue in hand.

"Fancy a bout, my lady?" he asked politely, though there was nothing polite about his grin.

"But I wouldn't even know where to start," Isabela replied, which was only half a lie. The way her hand was moving up and down the cue was probably nothing. "I'm not used to playing with balls and sticks."

"Then it would be my honor to show you how to handle them," he told her, very much watching that motion of her hand, yes. "I see you've already a firm grip on the shaft there; I bet you are a natural."

"Oh, I'd be terribly grateful." Emphasis on the terrible. "It looks like they'd need a delicate touch."

"They can be a bit sensitive," Hyacinthe agreed. "But once you learn your way around a set, you might discover that some can handle a slightly rougher touch. May I see your hand?" He held out his for her to place hers on. "You need to hold the stick aright if you wish to get anywhere."

"I'd hate to have a poor grasp on the situation," Isabela replied cheerfully, putting her hand in his.

He traced over her palm with delicate fingers, following it up to the inside of her wrist and up her forearm to her elbow. A long, slow, sensuous sweep over her skin, so close in color to his. "Oh, I doubt that is something we'd need to worry about, even as inexperienced as you are," he said in a silky voice. "There's strength here. No stranger to work. I bet you can handle it pretty hard if you need to."

Roscoe was very hungover. He had sunglasses on and his hood was up and he cringed every time a ball clacked against another ball.

This was what he got for not skipping class like he wanted to.

Frank drank. A lot. It was a while before he finally challenged a guy who had been watching him drink two whole bottles of whatever it was he had with him. After all, surely that was enough to knock anyone out.

He let Frank win the first game to sucker him in. He let Frank win the second to let the alcohol shoot his confidence through the roof. He chalked the third loss down to luck and mild frustration that Frank was still insulting him nonstop. At the end of the fourth loss, he was just so, so angry and confused and angry.

"It's a game of focus, skill, and hand eye coordination, my good man. And also of hanging around seedy people and ghosts for so much of your life that you've spent a surprising amount of time in pool halls even dingier than this! That helps, too."

If you need to.

To keep the hustlers from falling out of the OCD.

Working the Long Con, Tuesday, First Period

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During the Lecture

Activity: Pocketing the 8 Ball

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Talk to the Teacher

OOC