Erik nodded, twisting chalk onto the end of the cue. "And you're Jemma Simmons of S.H.I.E.L.D.," he said. She seemed pleased to be remembered; God, she was young.

With his hands still occupied, a few silver dollars floated out of his pocket and lined themselves up on the edge of the pool table beside him. "Shall we say a dollar per ball to start?"