"Do you know what the definition of a hero is? Someone who gets other people killed." O/O (very much so closed, but you can stalk)

Mason finally arrived, almost falling into the doorway. He tripped in, regaining himself as he entered the corridor.
“Yeah,” he said, breathless. “Th-thanks.”
He panted like a dog, leaning over with his hands on his knees the second he regained his balance. Running, or sports rather, were certainly not his strong suit. Especially something like a 400 yard dash straightaway.
The corridor lead to an open room, filled with cozy-looking couches and different games.
From ping pong to foosball, from pool to darts, there was everything. Mason never really came in here often, due to having really no one to play any game with. Now that he did, the place was wonderful.
He looked up at Mavi as he calmed, breathing returning to normal.
“You put up a good fight,” he said sarcastically, acting like he was the one who won. He gave a slight smirk as he said so. “You pick the game, then.”

Mason teetered his head back and forth mockingly, giving a sarcastic smile with narrowed eyes.
“Oh hush,” he muttered jokingly. “And yeah, that defeats the entire purpose. But, alright.”
He stood upright, looking over his shoulder as he began walking down the hallway to make sure she had followed. He instantly slid up to the side of the pool table, taking one of the sticks and twirling it in his hand.
“Then I challenge you to a pool… match? I don’t know what they’re called, but I challenge you,” he said, laughing at his stumble. “Do you dare oppose me?”
He drew the stick like he would a sword, waiting for the girl to accept the challenge. Like it would be a challenge at all. He doubted he even remembered how to play the game.

_{(It’s alright, don’t worry about it :)}

“You’re going first?” he asked. “Alright then.”
He walked around to her side, awkwardly standing there.
“So I’d rather not show you how they do in rom-coms,” he said with a nervous laugh. “So here. Get low, rest the stick on your non-dominant hand. There you go. And then line up a shot— hit the white ball into the other ones.”
As he instructed, he crossed his legs, propping himself on his own pool stick. Most of his weight rested upon it as he spoke, him upholding somewhat of a cocky posture.
“Once you hit any in, then depending on the pattern, you’ll either have to continue hitting on stripes or solids,” he explained. He let out a sigh, pausing and waving his free hand.
“Sorry, I’m rambling,” he laughed. “Go ahead and set up your shot.”
He normally wasn’t this giddy. Or talkative. But he had a friend now, and he was comfortable. He liked her. She seemed a lot like him, mostly in the fake show-off way.

“If I can, huh?” he asked, wagging his head tauntingly. “You certainly talk a big game, Mav. If I can… call you that?”
He took his pool stick, flipping it behind his back and drawing it around, lining it up and resting it between his fingers. Looper under his left pointer, he gave sort of a relaxed shot, just scattering the balls across the table. None sunk, but the shots were easier to line up now.

He gave another twirl to his pool stick, taking up the same stance he had before. He gave a smile, raising an eyebrow and gesturing a hand forward.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Whatever you sink now is the suit you keep. If you sink stripes, you’re stripes. And vice versa with solids.”