It was 10:50 p.m when James slipped out of the medical room. Technically, he still wasn't supposed to leave the area for a few days, but no one was really paying attention to that anymore. The whole ‘stay in bed’ thing seemed like a formality now. He felt fine. He could walk on his own and maybe even exercise, but after being caught, he wasn't as eager to do so. Bke set their regur meeting time for 11 p.m—te enough that most of the people were already off work, but early enough to finish before dawn, without attracting anyone's attention.

  At least that was the pn.

  Halfway in, he heard footsteps coming from the hallway next door. It was too te to hide. James slowed his pace, trying to look cool. People usually didn’t care. If they asked, he could quickly make something up. The woman who appeared before him seemed familiar, but without the make-up, James didn’t recognize her until he heard her voice.

  “James?” Hana asked, surprised.

  She was carrying a ptop with a tablet in one hand and a stack of folders with coffee in the other. Her hair was disheveled, clothes sloppily thrown over. Tired eyes behind round gsses suggested she hadn’t had good night sleep for quite a while.

  “Oh! Hey there. I—uh, didn’t expect to see you here. You still work at this hour?” He gestured to the papers she was holding.

  “Night shifts,” Hana expined. “The command requires data for the upcoming operation and we need to work twice as much to meet the tight deadline.”

  James could clearly see it—she looked exceptionally overworked and probably relied on a coffee to keep herself awake for the whole night.

  "That sounds rough," he said, suddenly realizing why he hadn't seen her visiting medical. And here he'd been thinking she just didn't want to see him. "How long have you been pulling these hours?”

  "About a week now," Hana said, shifting her weight to better bance the stack of folders. "The command keeps changing parameters, so we're constantly redoing analysis. You know how it goes."

  James nodded sympathetically. "Need any help with those?" he gestured to her overflowing arms.

  "No, I'm fine," she said, then paused, looking at him more carefully. “What about you? Aren’t you supposed to be in medical?”

  James fshed his most innocent smile. "Just heading to the bathroom.”

  Hana's eyebrow rose slightly. "At this hour? All the way on this floor?"

  “Gets boring staring at the same four walls all day, you know? Figure a little walk won't kill me."

  "Hmm." Hana didn't look entirely convinced. "Well, don't let the night staff catch you wandering. They're much stricter than the day shift."

  James grinned. “Trust me, I'm very careful.” He was about to say more, but realized that coming to Bke’s office te at night might give her the wrong idea and slowly started backtracking. “Well, I shouldn't keep you from work, you gotta finish quick and take a break. It was really nice seeing you. Really. I hope we can talk more sometime. Goodbye!”

  ***

  “Pre-lim-in-ary… as-sem… assest…”

  “Assessment.”

  James sighed, rubbing his eyes. "In-di-cates..." he paused, squinting at the next word. "Ex-po-nen-tial? Exponential growth."

  "Good."

  "This would be easier if it wasn't in government-speak," James compined, leaning back in his chair. "Why can't they just say 'the bad guys are getting more weapons' instead of 'preliminary assessment indicates exponential growth in tangible strategic assets'?"

  "Because the people who write these reports are trying to sound intelligent," Bke replied, sliding another document across the desk.

  James stared at the next page. They'd been at this for nearly two hours, and the words were starting to swim on the page. Six nights in a row now, Bke had been drilling him on these reports, forcing him to sound out words that agents used daily but James had only ever heard spoken.

  "I feel so stupid," James muttered, dropping the paper onto the desk. "My brain is fried. How do you read this stuff all day?"

  "It’s a skill like any other. It needs practice."

  A beat of silence passed between them.

  "We can continue tomorrow," Bke said finally.

  "No, no." James straightened up, determined not to disappoint. "I can keep going."

  He looked at the page again, silently mouthing letters. After another fifteen minutes of painfully slow progress, he looked up with a half-smile. "Can we take a break? Maybe py something?"

  It sounded so embarrassingly childish that James mentally punched himself in the gut. What was he even thinking? The chance of Bke pying any game with him seemed as likely as snow in the Sahara.

  Bke raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, James was sure he'd overstepped.

  “What do you have in mind?" Bke asked unexpectedly.

  James blinked, genuinely surprised by the question. He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. "I, uh..." He scrambled for an answer that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot. "Chess?" he suggested, naming the first game that seemed serious enough for someone like Bke.

  Bke studied him for a moment, then opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a wooden box. James stared in disbelief as Bke opened it to reveal a handsome set of carved wooden pieces, polished and well-used. It looked like an antique.

  "You actually have a chess set in your desk?”

  “You know how to py?”

  “Um, the basics? I know the horse moves in L shape.”

  “It’s called a knight,” Bke corrected, setting the board. "Bck or white?"

  James eyed the pieces dubiously. "Doesn't white always go first? Sounds like an advantage."

  "It is."

  "Then I'll take bck." James smiled. "I like a challenge."

  Bke turned the board around and started expining the mechanics of the game, the characteristics of each piece as he put them in pce. The goal: defeat the other person's king while protecting your own.

  “So the pawns can only move forward?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cannon fodder,” James said with a smile.

  “No,” Bke said firmly. “Every piece has a purpose. Even a pawn can become a queen when it reaches the end of the board.”

  James raised his eyebrows. "Really?" He touched one of the bck pawns thoughtfully.

  The first game was over embarrassingly fast. Three moves in, Bke had maneuvered his queen and bishop into position.

  "Checkmate," he announced.

  James stared at the board in confusion. "Wait, what? How?"

  "Schor's mate," Bke expined, pointing to the pieces. "You left your king exposed."

  James frowned at the board. "That's it? Three moves? That doesn't seem fair."

  "It's a beginner's trap. Once you know it exists, you won't fall for it again." Bke reset the board. "Again?"

  The second game sted longer, but not by much. James moved his pieces aggressively, sending pawns, bishops, and even his queen into Bke's territory with little strategic thought.

  "Why did you give up your bishop?" Bke asked after James pushed the piece directly into the path of Bke's queen.

  "To protect my horse," James replied, gesturing to the piece behind it.

  "Your knight was in no danger," Bke pointed out. "And now you've lost your bishop for nothing."

  "Well, the bishop was just sitting there doing nothing anyway."

  "Every piece matters. You’re supposed to use each one of them according to its strengths." Bke moved his rook. "Checkmate."

  James sighed, leaning back. "Let me guess, I left my king exposed again?"

  "This time you sacrificed too many pieces. Especially your queen. She was your strongest defender."

  "One more," James said. "Third time's the charm, right?"

  Bke nodded and gestured for James to make the first move. This time, James tried to think ahead before moving. He recalled what Bke had shown him, paying attention to protecting his king while developing his pieces. The game progressed more slowly. James hesitated before each move, considering his options rather than charging ahead.

  "So," James ventured after a few moves, "is this another lesson? Chess as, I don't know, tactical training or something?"

  "No," Bke replied simply. "It's just chess."

  “Just chess,” James repeated with a tinge of doubt. “Have you ever taught anyone else to py?"

  "No."

  James felt an unexpected warmth at that. It was probably nothing, but the idea that Bke was sharing something he'd never shared with anyone else meant something.

  Ten minutes ter, James noticed an opportunity. Bke's knight was positioned where James's bishop could capture it. He hesitated, looking for the trap, but couldn't see one.

  “Ha!" James excimed, holding up the piece triumphantly. "Got your horse!"

  He looked up to find Bke watching him with a strange expression.

  "What?" James asked, suddenly self-conscious about his celebration.

  "Nothing," Bke replied, already pnning his next move. "Good capture."

  James couldn't help grinning, feeling disproportionately pleased with himself. Yes, Bke would still win. James was down to just a few pieces while Bke's forces remained rgely intact. But he'd managed to take the first piece since their game began. It felt like a small victory.

  As expected, five moves ter, James was in checkmate again.

  "Third loss in a row, huh?” James said, casually leaning back. “Really showing progress."

  "You sted longer than before."

  "And still lost," James pointed out with a grin.

  "Strategy develops with practice," Bke replied. "Your reading has improved too."

  James stared at the paperwork they'd abandoned earlier. He hadn't noticed any improvement in himself, but if Bke said it was there, maybe it was true.

  “So chess will be a reward for reading those soul-crushing reports?”

  “If it motivates you.”

  James watched as Bke carefully pced each piece back in its designated spot in the velvet-lined box. There was something meticulous about the way he handled them, like they were more than just game pieces.

  "Where did you learn to py?" James asked.

  Bke's hands paused momentarily over the chess pieces, but he didn't answer. The silence stretched long enough for James to realize he wouldn't get a response. Personal questions were always a gamble with Bke and it seemed like this time, he took a step too far.

  "So, uh, I was thinking about what Ramirez told me the other day,” James said, quickly changing the subject. “About that new training simution they're setting up in the south wing? Apparently it's got some kind of modern VR component that can replicate different urban environments." He leaned forward, resting his good arm on the desk. "Maybe once the doc clears me, we could check it out? Might be useful for future missions. What do you think?"

  Bke closed the chess box with a soft click, sliding it back into the drawer.

  “Maybe.”

  "So we'll continue tomorrow?" James asked casually as he stood up, trying not to sound too hopeful. “I'll try to read faster."

  "You don't need to read faster. You need to read better." Bke tapped one of the files. "Take this with you. Practice."

  James picked up the folder, clutching it like a student with homework, suddenly aware of the weight of what these sessions represented. Not just the reading practice or the chess games, but the fact that Bke was investing time in him. Real time, not just the bare minimum required by their professional retionship.

  The room fell into an awkward silence as he tried to find the right words. There was so much he wanted to say. These evening sessions had become something sacred to James, something he looked forward to each day. It wasn't just the reading or the chess that mattered. It was the first time in years that someone was treating him like he had value beyond the mission. Like a human being.

  The realization made his throat tighten. He opened his mouth to express his gratitude, but the words wouldn't come. What could he possibly say? ‘Thanks for making me feel like I matter’? ‘Thanks for noticing I can’t read government papers’?

  "I, uh..." James started, then cleared his throat. "This is... I mean, I know I'm not the quickest student, but..." He tapped the folder against his leg, frustrated at his inability to express himself. "What I'm trying to say is..."

  Bke stared at him with an impassive face, but didn't interrupt, which gave James enough courage.

  He swallowed, then gestured at the desk, the papers, the space between them. “Just… thanks. For all this. It means a lot.”

  The silence stretched and James was suddenly terrified that he’d said too much. Made things awkward. Broke whatever this was and made Bke retreat back into professional distance. Any second now he would dismiss him with some cutting remark about efficiency or protocol.

  Instead, Bke simply nodded once. "Same time tomorrow."

  It wasn't much, just three words delivered in Bke's typical economical manner. But James felt a wave of relief wash over him. He'd acknowledged something meaningful between them, and Bke hadn't shut it down.

  "Yeah. Tomorrow. Goodnight," James said, turning quickly toward the door before Bke could see the emotion written pinly across his face.