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You have your eyes locked on the red circle on the dartboard, ready to score. You twist the dart tugged between your thumb and your index finger, before letting it go. It flies through the air effortlessly, the dartflights cutting the air in half before the tip punctures the read colored circle.
"Yes! Bullseye!" You cheer, your voice bouncing off the ancient walls, turning a few heads of members present.
"That was mere luck," Tristen mutters under his breath.
"Oh, I'm sorry is the sound of me winning too loud for you?"
"On the contrary, my dear. Your jubilation is nothing but a pleasure to me." He replies truly, yet with a certain distaste of his own dart skills.
"But your ego can't handle it, huh? Poor thing." You say, and brush your hand over his cheek.
"Tell you what," You continue "Why don't I show you how it's done?"
"If you insist."
"Okay, first of all, you're too tense. Just loosen that tie a little bit" You wiggle at the knot holding the tie in place, loosening it "There we go. Now, dial down the power behind your throw and try again."
He gets in position with a dart in his hand, aiming for the dartboard.
"Now just let go in one continuous motion."
He practises the throw, still with too much power behind it
"Easy as a breeze. We don't want to split the board in half." You remind him.
He breathes out, and with the escaping breath, he let's go and sends the dart flying. It punctures one of the white colored outer fields.
"Not bad!!" You give him a clap on the shoulder "Not as good as me, but..."
Tristan smiles faintly, seemingly in his own victory, but what you didn't know- and he hopes you never will- is that he, in fact, is a marvellous dart player. But as much as he likes showing off his skills, he likes seeing you win more.
