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When Sara re-entered John’s apartment with the take-out they’d ordered, she was confused to find Laszlo and John seated at the chess table by the window. Maybe, if John were teaching Laszlo how to play, she’d be able to make more sense of the scene, but Laszlo was leaned back in his chair, perfectly at ease, while John, his face mere inches from the board, squinted incredulously at the pieces. The timer set to the side of the board ticked away, and as she put the food down onto the coffee table, Laszlo put his phone side to acknowledge her.
“Welcome back, Sara. How was the trip?”
“Fine. They gave us extra rice. What have I just walked into?”
John held up a hand. “Don’t distract me, Sara. I need to…” muttering to himself, he chose a piece to move, but just as his fingers closed around the pawn, he switched tactics and withdrew.
“Only one minute left, John.”
John glared up at Laszlo, and a moment later moved one of the pawns as though it caused him physical pain and punched in the end of his term. Drawn closer to appraise the move, Sara surveyed the board. Though they were still fairly early in the game, Laszlo was clearly winning. If she were him, she would move the bishop to C1—
Laszlo confidently moved his Knight to D3. It was an extremely clever move, and sneaky, putting John’s bishop in a tight space and not allowing any of his royalty to move. As Laszlo hit the clock, she was shocked by his ingenuity, and even more so because of the conversation they’d had just last week at her office.
As though reading her mind, Laszlo grabbed his phone and stood. “I shall you leave you to it, John, while I help Sara with the food. Five minutes on the clock.” He nodded to her, and together they disappeared into the kitchen to grab a few spare plates and cutlery.
Once alone, Sara rounded on him. “You told me you didn’t know how to play chess.”
It was true. The waiting room at her office came equipped with a chess table to help pass the time. She’d caught him sitting with a son left behind by his mother. While she had discussed the woman’s distressing case, a missing younger sister and a trail of blood and nothing else, Laszlo had been helping improve the boy’s attitude by letting himself be bested at the game. When Sara had asked him about it, Laszlo made a brief confession: “Piano was always my forte, growing up. After—After the accident, I decided to pursue more intellectual pursuits. Books, research… I didn’t have time for such games. I know the basics, of course, but not too much of the strategy.”
And now, here he was, schooling John, whom Sara had to admit was one of the best players she knew. Throughout their childhood, John had beat Sara a great many times over a chessboard. It was one of the few places he was better than her.
“I’m no grand master,” Laszlo assured her. “In fact, I’m no John, for that matter. But since we were taking a break from the show, and you were gone to pick up the food, I decided to entertain myself.” He set his phone down on the counter and moved around the kitchen island and plucked several plates off the exposed cabinetry.
“By torturing John?”
“By challenging him. Stimulate the mind.”
Sara moved to grab them some forks, while Laszlo filled a glass of water for John. “So how are you beating him?”
Laszlo didn’t answer, clearly content to leave it a mystery. Upon finding no clean forks in the drawer, Sara went to the dish washer and extracted some utensils. At that precise moment, Laszlo’s phone vibrated. Sara looked down at it, just briefly, but by the time Laszlo snatched it up she had already seen the message.
A simple text from Lucius. All it said was, in all caps, QUEEN TO F3!!!!!!!!
Sara gaped at Laszlo, who was failing miserably to hide his glee.
“You’re cheating,” she hissed. In spite of it all, she was seeing the humor of the situation, and started to grin a little.
“It was all very simple. I challenged John to a game, to which he said that he knew I didn’t know how to play. I explained to him that I knew his skill in chess was a point of pride, and that I had never wanted to place that wedge in our friendship when I beat him.”
“He didn’t take too kindly to that, I imagine.”
“Not at all. But always a gentleman, he’s been taking his defeat in grace.”
In the living room, a frustrated groan sliced through the air, followed in rapid succession by the hollow thud of the timer being hit and a chair scraping. John dragged himself into the kitchen, his face a mask of good-natured contempt. He pointed a finger at Laszlo.
“Your turn,” he announced.
“My dear friend,” Laszlo replied, slipping his phone into his pocket. He grabbed the water and deposited it into John’s hands, then picked up the plates. “Let’s take a break. The food will get cold if we keep playing.” He looked to Sara, and for a moment, she considered giving him up.
After a minute of internal struggle (an external, as well. She just barely kept the grin off her face) she nodded her agreement. “And I’d like to resume our binge watch. At least another episode or two. You can defeat Laszlo later.”
John downed his glass of water in three gulps. “Thank you for your belief in me,” he told her. To Laszlo, “I think you’ll be surprised by this next move. A stroke of genius on my part.”
“I’m sure.” Laszlo went ahead into the hallway, and after a moment, John refilled his water and followed him. Alone in the kitchen, Sara allowed herself to laugh at Laszlo’s antics, before grabbing her forks and following them to the living room.