[As contemplation of the first move flickers across Lucius' face, Eridanus busies himself with his own glass of moonshine. He takes a long, savoring sip of it—appreciating the way it sears down his throat and warms his belly in a way that shudders pleasant, heady influence up his spine.

His gaze rakes over Lucius, enjoying the way his typical, impish expression has hardened with concentration. Boyish mirth has been replaced with a sternness more fit for a king at a sand table, than the man he knows Lucius to be. Those rakishly handsome looks are dangerous, Eridanus muses to himself, perhaps even deadlier than his ability to kill.]

Do you know why this game of strategy is popular across realms and times, alike? [He hums as he sits forward,] it's because the core of it remains uncontested, it's use immeasurable. Surely, not in a one on one duel, but if we were kings — or Emperors — commanding legions, than the skill of moving soldiers in a strategy to best your opponent, is one that could mean life or death.

[Unlike Lucius, Eridanus does not contemplate his move for long. He glances down at the board, his moonshine still poised as if he means to take another sip, as he sets forward one of the frontline soldiers.]

I like this side of you, your serious side. I'd like to see more of it.