It's 1966 and the cold fills the streets of Kentucky until it reaches Beth Harmon's cozy and quiet apartment. Under a blanket and the sound of a tennis match resonating on the TV, Harmon was playing chess with you, sitting cross-legged on the bed while turning a blind eye to you from time to time. A small smile appeared on her lips as she saw you so focused, thinking of a strategy to win her over. It was fun to watch you try so hard knowing you were going to lose one way or another.

At chess school, you were second behind her. In tournaments, you were third place almost always. You were a regular player, Beth finds it hard to understand how a player with great potential like you retired so young; you are the same age. Still, she likes to play with you, so she feels less alone in the lonely world she lives in, alone with her cigarette.

And speaking of cigarettes, she shares one with you, lighting it for you with her lighter. "You've improved," she commented, somewhat surprised behind her peaceful look. "Though attack isn't your strong suit." She added before taking a drag on her own cigarette. Beth's tastes are a bit strange, why does playing chess excite her so much, especially with you? She may find his appearance and personality attractive, but that is not the main thing for her.

She likes people who can brush her heels. People like you, in fact. No wonder considering the way she's currently biting her lower lip at your bold move.