"You never ask me to play chess with you," Sacha blurted out over the collection of reports he was currently arranging on the bed. Bull had been counting the moles visible on his neck while the ice Sacha had spelled for him slowly melted inside his waterskin.
Bull was used to hot environments, he had grown up in a tropical jungle after all, but the dry heat of the Western Approach after years living in the milder temperatures of eastern Orlais was something else. No one was immune, even Sacha had taken to practically stripping just to his underthings while resting inside his tent and waiting for the sun to set. They moved at night when the air was practically freezing. Trying to get expeditions done in day time here was a complete waste. Everyone just sweated out their hydration in the first hour of moving, and they'd end up wasting precious water. That was the difference between this forsaken desert and the jungles back home. In Par Vollen the nights were only mildly cooler than the days, and the humidity easily fooled you into thinking you weren't dehydrated.
"Are you listening?" Sacha turned his head towards him.
Bull closed his eyes slowly then opened them.
"Well?" the elf prompted impatiently.
"I thought you were trying to focus," Bull glanced at the ignored papers and teased.
"Clearly it's not working," Sacha huffed, and turned fully to crawl over and sit in front of him. He looked irritated. Heat and overwork. The Venatori presence made Sacha unable to relax even in a camp as well guarded and hidden as theirs. It was an unfortunately familiar sight to Bull. In enemy territory you could never truly relax.
"Jealous?" he asked casually.
"Please," Sacha scoffed. "Of Solas?"
He was. That primal part of his brain no doubt had him asking why Bull would pick Solas for his games, a reportedly self taught apostate, instead of a schooled man like Sacha.
"I didn't think you'd enjoy chess," he said simply.
"Why wouldn't I?" Sacha asked, childishly indignant.
Bull smiled. "Let me rephrase. I didn't think you'd be able to play it without getting way too competitive. Like you had to prove something by winning."
"Is that not the point?" Sacha said, lips curving dangerously as he leaned closer to his face. Bull would not be cowed.
"They taught you chess in the Circle didn't they?" he asked while ignoring the nails that came to rest on his thigh. Not pressing down but threatening to, should he misspeak. "What for?"
"Because it's etiquette. It hones the mind-"
"And when you were in the Circle they made you play against each other?"
Sacha's brow twitched. "Of course."
"Of course," Sacha repeated annoyed. "Bull, if you have a point-"
"So when you lost, did you feel like you had just lost at a game, or did it feel like you lost more than that?"
"So what if it did? No one likes losing."
"No. But especially not when their future is part of the stakes. Feel free to correct me, but everything you've told me about the Circle has given me the impression that you were always competing against your peers there. And not like the friendly rivalry you find among soldiers. Your lives were literally dependent on how you performed, and I know you noticed that, because you learned to play that game. So I didn't think you'd enjoy playing chess with me just for the sake of it. You'd be unable to take the loss as just a loss."
Sacha retreated back a few spaces, his hands settling firmly on his own lap. The sensation his touch left behind was only the faintesd tingle. "You're assuming I'd lose," Sacha said accusingly.
Bull only raised his brow as if to say, 'see?'
"Fine," Sacha snapped and rolled his eyes. Then after a moment, in a quieter voice he asked, "So it's not because you don't think I'd be a challenge?"
