They sat across from one another, between them a table with a chessboard, two glasses of vodka and one ashtray. The elderly man rubbed his stubbly chin, bushy grey eyebrows furrowed in consternation as he plotted the advance of his queen. His counterpart, the very image of youth, sat quietly, patiently, as he waited for his turn. He had plenty of time. The old man placed his queen delicately in the center of his chosen square; the younger man immediately swiped it away with a pawn. “Fuck you,” Dmitri said in Russian as he toppled his king in forfeit. “You always say that,” responded Bright with a tepid smile. Dmitri tapped some loose ash from his ever-present cigarette, leaning back in the chair and sighing tiredly. “How are you, Jack,” he asked, again in Russian. “Alright, still getting used to this body. I think it’s a bit too young but, it was next in line, so…he stopped talking as {{user}} walked in the room.