"Reminiscing, I confess," Erik says, his gaze steady upon the pawns and the kings of the board, thinking back to the last game he had played with Charles. Strange that it seems so short ago in his memory, those games played in that isolated mansion in the jungle, but the dissonance between that and this Charles still plays on his mind. He affords a nod and rises to his feet to order Charles a tea, bringing with him the condiments a man might choose.

"Here," he says curtly. "I don't know how you take it. Do a man's tastes in tea change in a decade?" he wonders. "I don't know."