She blushed at his choice of words. “Yeah, I’m kind of the Chess master,” she said, suddenly shy. “Though you’re running on - what - two hours of sleep? We’ll have to have a rematch as soon as we’ve both got an adequate amount of sleep.”
“Master Strategist, good game.” Milo’s fingers drummed restlessly against his leg beneath the table, a habit he picked up once he’d upped his caffeine intake. Both dark eyebrows shot up in surprise at her observation, he tilted his head to one side. “This is how you won! Know your enemy and all that.”
















