"Lucky you." He lines up his next shot, using one of her stripes to push one of his solids towards an open pocket on the other side of the table, narrowly missing taking the eight ball with it. The solid teeters on the edge for a moment before tipping in, thunking solidly into the hole.

Jim throws her a questioning look, one that says he suspects he already knows the answer. "Exactly how legal is your job, anyway?" He won't exactly judge her if it's not. He's many things, but he tries not to be hypocrite.