Illogical, unpredictable play styles are one thing. This... this is something else. It’s like his older companion is only there half the time, and Jim has never had a harder time trying to read him, to figure out why. In contrast to the constant twitching across the table, Jim tenses more and more as the game plays on, restrained like he’s waiting for the shit to hit the fan while he’s got no clue just how bad it’s going to be. If this was supposed to help blow off some steam, it’s clearly failing.

It’s near impossible to set up any kind of winning strategy against this kind of random pattern, but neither is the other captain pressing the advantage like he should. Minutes tick away as the pieces on the board dwindle, reducing chances of a clear victory even further until it becomes obvious neither of them is coming out on top.

Jim’s coffee is damn near forgotten, slowly cooling on the table at his elbow, barely touched. He picks it up again and grimaces a little when he takes a sip, though it has little to do with the lukewarm bitterness of it.