Trying to keep in mind that he was actually trying to teach her, Max resisted the urge to pot every ball on the table. Sometimes, when things at the bar were slow, he'd just take a rack of balls and shoot to pass the time. But this wasn't practice -- not for him. It'd be far less fun for her to just watch him sink every ball on the table, all of his, then all that remained.
However, the concentration when he lined up his shot wasn't easy to hide and even harder to fake. His stick struck the cue ball and knocked the ball he'd targeted right into the pocket. Unfortunately, the white ball decided to follow into the hole.
"Shit," Max said, wincing. He fished the cue ball from the pocket, turning it over in his hand and making a face at it. "That'd be your go, again. Free shot. D'you know how to do those?"