[ It's a risky, dynamic opening, and he plays an equally reckless game, sacrificing pieces with abandon to keep the momentum of the lead. Enough that his development falls short in the late game and it becomes a cat and mouse, Bull hunting down each of his remaining pieces as they attempt valiantly to marshall into some kind of protective formation. They don't even need to reach checkmate - John cedes when he loses his second bishop: ]
Shit. That's your game.
[ A little despondent, but not for the loss, just the end. He's allowed Bull however much time he likes between moves, knowing the other man is probably going about his day, but even when it wasn't his turn considering the possibilities of the game was a lovely distraction. ]
[John's play gives him an idea of what, exactly, is going through his head. It feels reckless to start, and the willingness to sacrifice pieces either speaks to desperation or simply a desire to carry momentum. It doesn't work, in the end. Possibly because Bull has slightly more time to think out his plays and less torture to deal with.]
So let's reset the board.
[Bull has been relatively quick to answer most of John's moves, the longest gaps happening midday when he was taking care of things that required his full attention. But, for the most part, he's tried not to keep the other man waiting. Whatever is happening to John right now, Bull can at least give his mind somewhere else to go.]
[ Pretty flirty for text. John starts as white this time, but his moves get more erratic, breaking a traditional opening form with something completely left field, until suddenly he goes silent for a long time.
When he comes back, he doesn't immediately play on. ]
Sorry about that. Died.
[ Too tired to lie about it or use some euphemistic excuse — everything went to telepathic voicemail because he was off somewhere in one of those blank spots he hates more than almost anything else. ]
[Bull tries not to think too hard about what might be happening that John can't escape into his mind. People aren't as difficult to break as many would like to think.
He isn't expecting to hear that blunt confession when John comes back. Bull sets aside the book he's been looking at - uselessly, but looking none the less.]
[ And it's back to the game. He plays carefully, now, like he's under less mind-consuming pressure, but he's fighting out of a very bad opening game and is still tired, stumbles into a clever trap at the end and cedes the moment he realizes. ]
Shame I can't shake your hand. You play chess like it's a real war.
Chess feels more straightforward sometimes. I spent ten years in the middle of an attrition war. I don't know if either side would call it that, but that's what it is. Both sides wearing trying to wear the other down, and everyone in the middle - soldiers, civilians, rebels - gets ground down.
[If John is up for another game, Bull resets, changing sides again.]
[ John will play along. He considers talking about his own war, spanning thousands of years and literal galaxies, but decides - he'll either have to lie or admit to some things that could lose him a lifeline. Maybe another time. So instead they can just play chess for a while more. ]
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no subject
[ It's a risky, dynamic opening, and he plays an equally reckless game, sacrificing pieces with abandon to keep the momentum of the lead. Enough that his development falls short in the late game and it becomes a cat and mouse, Bull hunting down each of his remaining pieces as they attempt valiantly to marshall into some kind of protective formation. They don't even need to reach checkmate - John cedes when he loses his second bishop: ]
Shit. That's your game.
[ A little despondent, but not for the loss, just the end. He's allowed Bull however much time he likes between moves, knowing the other man is probably going about his day, but even when it wasn't his turn considering the possibilities of the game was a lovely distraction. ]
no subject
So let's reset the board.
[Bull has been relatively quick to answer most of John's moves, the longest gaps happening midday when he was taking care of things that required his full attention. But, for the most part, he's tried not to keep the other man waiting. Whatever is happening to John right now, Bull can at least give his mind somewhere else to go.]
I can go all day.
no subject
[ Pretty flirty for text. John starts as white this time, but his moves get more erratic, breaking a traditional opening form with something completely left field, until suddenly he goes silent for a long time.
When he comes back, he doesn't immediately play on. ]
Sorry about that. Died.
[ Too tired to lie about it or use some euphemistic excuse — everything went to telepathic voicemail because he was off somewhere in one of those blank spots he hates more than almost anything else. ]
Where were we. You had my knight pinned?
no subject
He isn't expecting to hear that blunt confession when John comes back. Bull sets aside the book he's been looking at - uselessly, but looking none the less.]
Well shit.
[Yeah, for a second that's all he's got.]
Yeah, had a bishop and castle threatening it.
no subject
[ And it's back to the game. He plays carefully, now, like he's under less mind-consuming pressure, but he's fighting out of a very bad opening game and is still tired, stumbles into a clever trap at the end and cedes the moment he realizes. ]
Shame I can't shake your hand. You play chess like it's a real war.
no subject
I spent ten years in the middle of an attrition war. I don't know if either side would call it that, but that's what it is. Both sides wearing trying to wear the other down, and everyone in the middle - soldiers, civilians, rebels - gets ground down.
[If John is up for another game, Bull resets, changing sides again.]
gonna wrap here if that's ok!