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Hera never brings him food herself. She does usually help prepare it – she has a better sense of the Terran diet than most, and when it comes down to it, she doesn't fully trust the others not to poison a meal they know is going to their half-Terran 'guest.' But she always finds someone she does trust to take it into him. And then, at first, she'd waited, leaving him to eat alone before she entered his room.

She kept to the first. But the second, she gradually eased. Hera remembered how total her isolation had been, and what had eased in her when she'd grown used to sharing meals. That was something she could do, even if she wouldn't serve him.

So the time she waits becomes shorter and shorter. Until today, when it's only a few minutes after seeing Muroc exit the makeshift cabin that she approaches. She nods to the guard, and then though she doesn't have to, she knocks on the door. She doesn't wait for an answer before entering the room.

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He looks up at her at that.

"Do you win a lot?"

"I win more than when I started."

Hera isn't one for modesty, but it's hard to say 'a lot,' given her most frequent opponent.

He swallows, still looking at her.

"Is it the winning you like, or the figuring out your opponent?"

His fingers are clenched tightly around the knight in his hand.

She watches him in return, her eyes flickering to his hands. Clearly this question is important to him, though she isn't really sure why. But even if she could lie, she sees no point in answering anything but honestly.

"I like the challenge of developing strategies," she says, slowly, "and carrying them out."

After a few more seconds of thought, "And I like the safety of losing without consequence. It lets me explore risks I wouldn't otherwise."

He exhales, sagging back, gaze dropping back to the knight that he replaces on the board. Carefully.

"Yeah, that . . . that sounds really good right now."

It seems like she's given something close to the right answer. If that were ever really possible.

Hera turns her eyes back down to the board, now reaching for -

"This is a pawn." She taps the piece in front of her knight. "It can only move forward, one square, except on its first move, when it can move two. And it can only take other pieces -"

She lifts the pawn to demonstrate. "- by moving forward one square, but diagonally."

He's frowning now, but leaning forward, too.

"I wonder which came first? The game piece, or the word. Huh."

"The name comes from a word for 'foot soldier' in an ancient Terran language."

Latin, specifically, which she knows the Terrans still like to use ceremonially.

Any other connotations to the word, however - she doesn't know.

"Let me guess, in this game pawns are the ones that usually get sacrificed?"

It would fit. Very well, in fact.

"They are."

Weak and numerous, they're certainly the easiest to lose.

"But if a pawn reaches the opposite side of the board, it can be promoted."

Kanan barks out a laugh.

"Now that would have been inspiring, once."

She blinks up at the laugh, but then back down to the pieces.

"Which piece they're exchanged for is the player's choice, so it almost always becomes a queen."

"Wouldn't you be, if you could?"

Kanan would like to be. Or . . . he would have liked it, in the Empire. What other way is there to avoid being a complete entity, and meaningless with it?

"I've never had a reason to choose something else."

It takes her a few seconds, but then she looks to him again, seeming to realize she misunderstood his question.

"Me, either," Kanan says. This time his smile is real, but it still doesn't last long.

It takes her a moment.

But then, very briefly, Hera smiles too.

Then she blinks back down to the board. "Those are the rules.

"White always moves first."

"I feel like that's a disadvantage right now, but all right."

He moves one pawn -- the one farthest to the left -- by one square.

Hera doesn't answer. She watches his move, and then studies her own.

And as her first opponent had played when introducing her to the game, she keeps the pace slow, but her own moves ruthless. She considers what she knows about Kanan, about the Terran Empire and what it would foster, about Betazoids, what he may sense from her. How he's acted toward her so far.

This, combined with Kanan's tendency to avoid, and to retreat, means she makes quick work of his defenses. She doesn't draw out the game, moving in for checkmate at her earliest opportunity.

Edited 2018-08-18 23:32 (UTC)

He sits back once it's done, shaking his head and rubbing his hands along his thighs.

"Was that as easy as it looked? For you, I mean."

Hera begins to reset the pieces.

"You played mostly like I expected."

"Well, you've had enough time to watch me."

He doesn't mean to sound defensive, not really, but --

"What do you . . . see?"

Again, it seems to be an important question. Hera can only think to answer it in the way it had been answered to her.

"I considered what I know of the values of the Terran Empire, and the behavior of the Empire's low-ranking officers. What I know about you, in what you've expressed, and how you've reacted to me. And what I know about Betazoids, and their abilities."

He flinches back from that last piece, then visibly makes himself ask --

"What about Betazoids?"

She nods, again taking a moment before she answered.

"Their telepathic abilities have led Betazoids to embrace honesty and openness. They understand deceit, but are not always practiced at using it. Their skills lend them other weapons, such as projecting their thoughts and emotions, or manipulating others' minds. If you used your senses, you might sense my focus, my excitement or disappointment at a given move. You might even attempt to influence my thoughts."

Hera blinks up to him. "But I doubted you would use those skills. I thought you would play honestly, making the moves you wanted to make in the moment, rather than considering what you wanted me to see, or working toward a greater strategy."

"I didn't -- "

Kanan stops himself, eyes wide at what he just found himself thinking. But --

"You're not my enemy. It's . . . hard to think like that, about -- "

He gestures to the board in front of them.

"About a game. And even if it weren't a game . . ."