002 ♛ video

[superieure]

[ Monet is seated, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, lips curled into a smile, immaculately dressed as always, regarding the camera with a critical eye. In front of her is a chessboard, all set out for a game. She’s chosen black, so white faces the viewer. ]

I require an opponent.

Comments

[superieure]

I'll get my chance.

[She can be patient when she knows a good game is in store, and scrutinises his opening. He's either very good or a beginner, to move the pawn in front of a rook.]

[jirk]

[He doesn't exactly play to any one strategy. Instead, he learned as many variations on openings as he could and sort of played by instinct, sloppy and haphazard from that point. He's unpredictable. Spock cites it as being a reason he's come full circle to total predictability, there's a reason he's had to refine his methods. What works well against a new opponent doesn't work so hot against one that knows you, can read your every intention in the honest lines of your hands.]

Careful. Vulcans don't like to lose.

[Obviously untrue, he doesn't think Spock could muster up more than intrigue and maybe brief annoyance at taking a loss, but Jim likes to talk while he plays. He slides another pawn - g - to the 3rd position after she's made her move.]

[superieure]

I don't lose.

[Specifically, M. doesn't lose, but Monet's more interested in studying his technique than she is in making a statement. She finds it reckless in comparison to her more calculating, strategic choices, but within the parameters of the game, there's effectiveness. Sometimes he wins big from a costly sacrifice, and the only displeasure she shows is... none at all. She's enjoying the game; he's a lot smarter than she expected.]

[By the time they reach stalemate, Monet's gone from disinterest to intrigue, even to mild amusement.]

Hm.

[jirk]

[Not quite the outcome he was aiming for, but he'll take it. He leans back from the board, expression almost mirroring hers. He's not going to ask her if he passed muster, although the joke's on his lips, easy and casual. He doesn't need anyone's approval, damnit, he's grown past that. Starfleet Captain, remember?]

Huh.

[superieure]

[Whether he asks it or not, it's on the surface of his mind, and Monet silently curses the fact that nobody teaches them to block. No matter how strong her walls are, the sound is always there, in the background.]

[Instead, she looks at him.]

You weren't flirting seriously, were you.

[With her, or Layla, although Monet's far more protective of the latter.]

[jirk]

[He gives her a coy look and points at her with his index finger, his hand still wrapped around his wine glass.]

I'm always serious about my flirting. It's my best feature.

[superieure]

[She sighs. Time to cut to the chase.]

Do they still have loud, mobile speakers in the future, which blast music?

[jirk]

[Okay where's she going with this he'll play along, sure.]

Are you asking me to serenade you? Because for a girl who just kicked my butt at chess, that's kind of forward.

[Well, it was a draw. But Jim's secretly sometimes a gentleman, and thus defers.]

[superieure]

[She's about to continue the metaphor, but wait no he knows Spock, doesn't he?]

I'm a telepath. You're broadcasting.

[The deference softens her tone considerably.]

I've been told people here aren't used to that. Would you prefer to be taught to block?

[jirk]

[Jim doesn't react with violence, mentally, but he does slam up his wards with an apologetic sense of haste. He's got too many secrets in his head that aren't his. He doesn't care what she - what anyone - knows about him, he can handle the repercussions of people knowing what makes him tick. But he owes too many people their safety.

His wards are a little clumsy, though there's hints of refinement around the edges. He's been working on them for months, after all. They give a sense of clean, efficient lines, smooth edges. Nothing's cobbled together, it's built, as if from Rodinium.

Odds are, she could still shatter it with a touch. But he's not projecting any more.]

Better?

[superieure]

[She watches, stoic, as he puts up the mental wards. She didn't pry - it's no challenge for her if she reads her opponent's mind during chess, and all she got were mostly surface thoughts of him thinking about various other subjects while playing. ]

Much.

[A pause.]

Merci.

[Because other people's secrets aren't usually something she really wants to be drowned in, on a normal day.]

[jirk]

[He waves one hand in a little salute.]

Why tell me?

[superieure]

[Because, she thinks, I don't actually have an interest in another's secrets. She's perfected the art of hiding her true intentions, or so she likes to think of herself, but really, the sentiment is visible for somebody looking for it.]

It was ruining the game.

[Dismissive.]

[jirk]

[Hm. Jim arches an eyebrow, almost Spocklike, and then he lifts one hand in a little palm-up gesture.]

I wasn't thinking about the game.

[superieure]

No, it was the usual sentimental nonsense.

[But her attitude towards him is considerably less chilly than it was at the start of the game. She doesn't seem to notice this discrepancy, waving her hand.]

Extraneous.

[jirk]

[His mouth thins just a touch.]

There's nothing usual about my sentimental nonsense.

[He says it lightly, as a jest, but he is perfectly serious. He's learning to really not like the idea of people who can screw around with his mind.]

[superieure]

[That's what they all say, she thinks, exasperated. Having overheard so much in her life, to her, it's all become depressingly mundane.]

Usual or not, I've little interest. Reading chess moves off an opponent's thoughts presents no challenge, but strong emotion at this range is more difficult to block.

[jirk]

[After a moment, he shrugs. She doesn't know Kyle, she can have her own opinions. He'll have to talk to him later, though. If there's one thing he's wary of, being someone who could get hit by a starship and walk away, it's people who can invade the mind.

But she's no-nonsense about it. Could it be a weapon? Yeah, of course it could. Anything can be. But Jim honestly doesn't peg her as the type to use it at random.]

So. Same time next week?

[superieure]

[Jim's instincts are right. Monet doesn't care much - it's an interesting bit of trivia but she doesn't need it to hurt Jim, if it was ever needed. No, she could just punch him. Telepathy isn't something she generally uses as a weapon, unless she's feeling particularly vindictive.]

[She shrugs, in agreement.]

I enjoyed the game. You may come again.

[jirk]

I've got a different kind of chess to teach you when I do.

[She's sharp enough to pick up the multi-layered chess he's used to playing, and he could use a broader array of opponents. Jim lifts his glass in a little salute and tosses off the dregs.]

My cue to leave?

[superieure]

Three-dimensional? Spock mentioned it.

[She holds out her hand to take his glass when he's done, looking for her slippers.]

Do you generally keep it a secret that you can be a gentleman?

[It's honest curiosity on her part. He consistently gives her mixed signals - she doesn't realise she's been doing much of the same and responding better when he's uses his manners.]

[jirk]

That'd be the one. I've got a board.

[He tilts his head, and in response to her question he just grins.]

It's about as much of a secret as you not being a total ice queen.

[superieure]

Bring it over.

[She's hungry for knowledge, as well as the challenge, but then she just scowls at him.]

I don't know what you're talking about.

[But I won't tell if you don't.]

[jirk]

[He sketches out a gallant bow over her hand.]

Your secret's safe with me, m'lady.