"No, I am losing, but I can see how it would sort of look the same." Drunk Trevor, sober Adrian is a combination he hasn't endured in a while. It's kind of annoying. Almost ass annoying as the fact that he felt very clever for getting his hands on that rook only to lose a bishop and a pawn that actually made it a little ways.
Adrian has come out to the other side now, classifying this as a thing he's not immediately good at, and therefore not his thing. He can be breezy again. "Is it so entirely foreign to you to think you might just be better at this than I am? I never took to it particularly."
"Oh my god." He mutters under his breath, rubbing at his eyes. Trevor is under the impression that he himself is awful at it, but only because he was twelve and playing against people with twice as much experience and no inclination to take it easy on him.
Plus, it's strategy and that's where he tends to shine.
"You should take to it. It's a fucking - look, you have to consider everything you've got. You don't take one part of your forces and leave the rest home to piss away all your wine."
And now he is getting chess lessons from a drunk Belmont and, well, whatever, it's doing its job. Keeping a faint, and still slightly embarrassed, smile hidden, he looks innocently across at Trevor. "You make it sound so serious. It's just a game." Bait.
He's clearly having a very good time, in a very Trevor way. Adrian nods reluctantly, trying to look only a bit convinced. Now he absolutely is humoring Trevor, but at this point he doesn't think he's going to get caught.
And he does try for a decent move, though he's pretty sure the game is utterly unsalvageable. Positioning a bishop with an eye for a knight. Trying.
Trevor grumbles at the board and at Adrian. He does lose the knight, and buckles down to force a quicker checkmate in response, scowling with his head propped up. He's the worst sore winner when he's drunk, too.
Well. He got the night. Adrian considers a moment, then leans over and punches Trevor's shoulder. He hasn't touched the wine and has no excuse except that it's funny and might bring this back where he wants it.
"And yet you've finished most of the drink. I'm obviously losing. Let me have my forfeit." Turning the whole thing into a tussle has a certain appeal. If the board gets knocked over, have you really lost?
"You won't have much choice with the bottle empty," Adrian teases. As if he could possibly have hit hard leaning around a board from a sitting position. He doesn't feel bad at all.
Well, at this point Trevor's just chasing him around the board. In one respect, he can evade checkmate for a while, because the board is so empty he can just keep scooting his king around. Realistically, that's just annoying. "If I let you swing the bottle at me, will you let me surrender with dignity?"
"More dignity than the poor king being... what's the metaphor here, chased into exile and eventually assassinated? Let him abdicate in peace." You're the one who said it wasn't just a game, Trevor. Now he's invented fanfiction.
Adrian knocks over his king with all the dramatic flourish he can muster for what is actually just a flick of his finger. "So falls the might dynasty of this side of the board."
Well. Even if Trevor does go for it, he can shake it off. One last concession. Adrian stands lightly and crosses his arms, looking expectant. And amused.
He's not surprised, but he does appreciate it. Keeping the game going from
the sheer joy of being annoying. "Magnanimous even in victory." And he
bows. It is very sarcastic, because it's something his father has only ever
done sardonically, and he's no better. But well intentioned.
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"You're letting me win." He insists. "Dracula taught you, didn't he? Play like you mean it."
Trevor castles with his remaining rook and crosses his arms, scowling.
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Plus, it's strategy and that's where he tends to shine.
"You should take to it. It's a fucking - look, you have to consider everything you've got. You don't take one part of your forces and leave the rest home to piss away all your wine."
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"No, it isn't just a game. It's tactics. You learn, you adapt, and you fucking...I forget the word. Anyway. Fuck you, it's your turn."
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And he does try for a decent move, though he's pretty sure the game is utterly unsalvageable. Positioning a bishop with an eye for a knight. Trying.
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"Oy! This is a DRINKING game!"
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"Next piece, I'm hitting you back."
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"Check."
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He moves again.
"Check."
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"You call getting bashed with a wine bottle dignity?"
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"It's not really a metaphor if that's what it is. All right; abdicate, you ghoul."
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"You come here and take your beating like a true loser."
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Trevor sits down, satisfied.
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He's not surprised, but he does appreciate it. Keeping the game going from the sheer joy of being annoying. "Magnanimous even in victory." And he bows. It is very sarcastic, because it's something his father has only ever done sardonically, and he's no better. But well intentioned.
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