"You move too quickly," Obed said, circling the table to stand opposite her. His hands fussed with the cuffs of his shirt, cuffing them halfway up his forearms. He took up one of the abandoned cues. His cool gaze darted over the table, hastily studying the position of each ball. "Just slow down a little, and try to picture where each shot and angle will take you." He pointed the cue at another striped ball. One strike and two well-angled bounces would place it neatly in the bottom right pocket. "Try getting that one," he said, gesturing with the end of the cue, "down there."