I had overlooked the uneaten dinner the day before. I might even have overlooked his avoidance of the tray that evening, but he kept glancing at it and turning a faint shade of green. The first time he did it, I remarked to myself that his blush was surprisingly unbecoming, and tarnished the copper.
The second time, I considered the possibility that I was doing something that was taboo in his culture, such as eating food in his presence without inviting him to join me. I had refrained in the first place only because it seemed clear to me that one who offers food has a right to partake of it. I accordingly made the invitation, but he shook his head absently and moved a bishop.
The third time, I wondered aloud whether the temperature in my room might be affecting him. After all, it was rather cool in there. He stared at me incredulously, then enigmatically tugged at his collar to reveal a dramatic tan line. His stare turned challenging, and he declared that he could 'take it' if I could. Having no idea what he meant, I put a pawn in jeopardy to distract him from my queen.
He either did not notice the pawn or was uninterested in it.
He glanced at my food again, absently palming the queen, and turned green once more. I finally remembered that human blood is red. He was not flushed. I asked, casually, "You are not hungry?"
"Couldn't eat a bite," he returned cheerfully, moving a rook.
"Did you eat before you came?" I inquired, picking his rook up and placing it neatly with the rest of his captured forces.
He shrugged, grinned naughtily, announced, "Check and mate," and stood. "Night, Spock. Same time tomorrow?
"Most assuredly," I returned, somehow keeping my face neutral as I studied the board in stunned amazement. Even my father had not been able to defeat me at chess for nearly two years. "If I may inquire, your game has improved dramatically...?"
He shrugged again. "I told you yesterday," he said inaccurately. "My game was off. The crowd was distracting me."
"I see," I said. I didn't. I myself had been so engrossed in the game that I hadn't noticed the crowd until he had mentioned it. "In that event we will, with your permission, play here in future."
He eyed me for a long moment. I lifted my eyebrow inquisitively. "I thought I liked you," he informed me decisively. "Now I'm sure of it."
"It will be no easy win for you as it was tonight, Jim," I warned him, unreasonably pleased. "I shall not underestimate you again."
"You'd be the first, then," he returned dryly. "But... we'll see." He held out his hand. He was thrusting it out at me, perpendicular to the floor, as though I was supposed to do something with it. I stared at it blankly. "I know Vulcans don't usually shake hands," he explained, trying to smile and keep a straight face at the same time, "but I would like to ritualize our mutual dedication to winning the next game, and to not underestimating one another."
I looked at his unguarded eyes for another moment, and decided. Strengthening my shields and resolve as well as I could, I reached slowly for his hand. He guided me through the ceremony, keeping it at a more solemn pace than, I suspected, was usual. It consisted of a firm squeeze that lasted through up and down motions before releasing. His flesh was firmer than I had expected, and cool, and he clasped my hand tightly, knowing that my Vulcan bones could endure it. The impression of granite strength was remarkable, although not really physical. He took my reluctance to release him for ignorance of the ritual.
Then he left.
The room was larger after the door closed behind him, and I turned up the light. My gaze was drawn to his empty chair. After a few moment's cogitation, I reset the chess board and ran through the game we had just played. I then ran through the game we had played the day before.
I concluded that I had been paying as little attention to the game that night as he had the night before. I had missed several obvious openings. I also came to the somewhat more surprising conclusion that catching those openings would not have done me any good. I could not be certain, but it almost looked as though he had made them deliberately. As though he had taken advantage of my inattention to give me quick, easy victories. As though he had thrown me battles to distract me from winning the war.
And his overall strategy was elegant.
And I had entirely missed the battles, as well as losing the war.
I had to meditate for nearly an hour before my irritation with myself settled into a determination to do better next time.
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