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“The offices will still be here next week, why can’t you all go home until then?” Nate half-heartedly complains as he enters the briefing room, blissfully unaware that the offices will not, in fact, be there next week.
As if you can’t leave if you really wanted to, Eliot thinks.
Across the corner of the conference table, Sophie slides Nate a container of fancy pasta that she has somehow managed to pick up from a high-end restaurant in between their last location and their current one.
“Just eat, would you,” (please) she instructs, handing him a fork and emptying her own meal onto a plate.
Hardison plonks down a brown paper bag from some fast-food chain next to Sophie and begins unwrapping it. Eliot has situated himself at the opposite end of the table to Nate and is munching on some pre-made meal from the mini-fridge in his office. He analyses the “burger” within the hacker’s grasp and sends a judgmental glance in its direction.
Sophie watches their mastermind shovel forkfulls of pasta into his mouth now that he’s finally stopped fretting about. See, I knew you were hungry, she scolds mentally before glancing away to her left. Parker, who at some point snuck in with an array of packaged foods in her arms (she’s not that hungry, but everyone else is eating), is spinning in her chair and flicking cereal pieces into her mouth.
Sophie cuts up her battered fish and considers the fact that ‘sharing a meal’ isn’t a very accurate description for what they’re doing… nor is “sitting around the dinner table” quite right– but still, this is nice.
Amid the sounds of chewing, Parker stops twirling in her chair, tips her head to the side and pauses with a far-off pondering look in her eye.
“If you're the King, what are we?” she asks jovially, as if they had been mid-conversation.
She’s been thinking about it all day, trying hard to understand what exactly it means. On the surface it makes perfect sense to her, she even enjoys teasing Nate with the subject, but she just can't quite fully grasp it and her mind simply won't let her stop turning it over and over until she reaches a conclusion. The rest of the team turns their attention toward her.
“Who… who is she talking to?” Nate questions, looking to the others in response.
“You- I think,” Hardison tells him halfway through a sip of orange soda.
Nate sits up further, finishes his mouthful of food and leans forward. “Uh, pardon?” he asks, trying to find Parker's eye-line.
“If you're the King… what are we?” she repeats, a crinkle showing itself between her eyebrows as she awaits his answer.
Whilst her perplexed expression spreads to the others, Nate’s own confusion softens with understanding and is replaced by a slight twinkle of intrigue in his eye.
“I’m not sure, Parker. What do you think?” he deflects, attempting to gauge her thoughts.
Parker shrugs, “Chess isn’t really my game. I thought you’d know.”
Sophie picks up a chip from next to the salad on her plate and holds it in between her pointer and rude finger, humming in thought. She swipes it through the cup of tomato sauce, brings it to her lips as if she were smoking a cigarette, and then bites it in half. Nate silently wonders if it’s an old, subconscious habit; though he knows she’s not a smoker.
“I’m a Pawn, obviously,” she states with casual confidence.
Nate quirks an eyebrow at her, his lips torn between pursing and a smile. “Really? A Pawn? You’re a Pawn? Not the Queen, or the, or the– You… are a Pawn?”
“Of course!” She rolls her eyes like it’s obvious and leans in on her elbows, “Because,” she draws out the word with an almost sultry lilt as she shortens the gap between her and Nate, “if I play the game right, all the other pieces should just shoo, right out of my way. They clear a path to the finish line for me, and then I get to become anything I want!”
She loves seeing her audience so captivated, especially Nate, so she goes on. “See, I’m not just any ordinary Pawn like it seems, no-no, I’m the winning piece you never saw coming; something you thought you could dismiss or use to your own advantage. I'm a grifter, of course I'm not what you thought I was. With masterful manipulation- or strategy rather, I stroll past and then turn into a whole new piece, just like that…” she says, snapping her fingers sharply and leaning back into her chair with an air of satisfaction and a dreamy look glinting in her eyes.
Nate tilts his head on a slight angle, not unlike Parker did minutes earlier, and considers this with fascination before he lets out a small ‘hmh’ of agreement.
“Eliot’s the Knight,” Parker quickly chirps, and no one can disagree, part of his whole job is jumping to their rescue.
Eliot seems satisfied with the role; though he doesn’t look up or acknowledge the statement, only whispers something to himself about a cavalry with a small quasi-smile on his face.
“Differently to the unassuming and unobtrusive Pawn, the Queen is a certain master of escape,” Sophie continues, “so whilst whatever the Knight is up to can be more difficult to spot, the Queen is just as dangerous and much harder to predict; especially for anyone who’s new to the game. Physically versatile, exceptionally clever and superb skills of elusion, why do you think people warn that she ‘can move in any direction’? Parker, Parker is the Queen,” she concludes with certitude and a singular gesture toward the thief.
Hardison blinks once and folds his lips into an interested frown of sorts, engrossed in the metaphor along with everyone else, except maybe Parker herself who is digging around at the bottom of a cardboard box.
“I’m sure Parker agrees,” Sophie adds, nodding thoroughly and turning her attention toward the woman.
A second passes, and then another. Sophie’s staring marginally intensifies. It’s your turn to speak, Parker. The ball is in your court.
Parker, however, completely misses the ‘throw’ to her, obliviously letting the ‘ball’ fly directly over her head without a glance in its direction.
Realising her expectation is only going to be met with silence, Sophie prompts again, “Don’t you think, Parker?”
This time she smiles and chimes in, “Sounds fun. I do love jewels.”
So she was listening, Sophie thinks. Content with the answer given, she goes back to eating her meal.
“I’m the castle,” Hardison says, hand on his chest and ham hanging out his mouth.
“Yeah, how’d you figure that?” Eliot asks at the same time Nate's voice corrects “You mean the rook.”
“Coz I’m tall and well built,” he grins “and my firewall is an awesome, unmatched, fortress.”
“You do realise the rook is the second shortest piece,” Eliot interjects. “Maybe it’s because you only move up and down and side to side, in 1’s and 0’s. Lines of code, like a nerd.”
“That doesn’t even make sense, and I meant-” Hardison begins to defend himself as Eliot grumbles over him; “Does too! Do you even know how to play chess?”
“I don’t need to, I have cheat codes to win!” Alec yells back.
“Well, that just leaves the Bishop,” Nate declares loudly, cutting off the boy's quarrel.
Each person goes quiet, thinking. Nate turns to Sophie to see if she has anything to say, but it seems she's already lost in thought.
“What about this Stirling fella?” Eliot suggests. “We can go where he can’t,” he elaborates with a smug look. “Even if he is on our side, he doesn’t cross that line.”
“Plus, in comparison to me, his score is always low,” Parker evaluates, unsurprisingly.
“Fitting,” Sophie approves.
“...Did you just make a pun?” Nate quietly shakes his head behind her in the meantime.
“Hey! There ain’t no way you’re saying the Knight’s worth is the same as the Bishops,” Eliot points his fork sternly at Parker as he puts his empty container down.
Parker’s face falls just enough to notice. “I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t really get it.”
“No. She’s not saying that, Eliot. You know why?” Nate offers in an authoritative voice, “Because, Parker, you guys are more valuable than any game piece ever could be, and in a way that can’t be measured by points. Chess is just a fun metaphor for what we do. I promise you, Parker, you’ve got a lot more personality than a plastic token,” he explains with a mildly teasing, but reassuring smile. “Plus, anybody who captures Eliot is going to lose points.”
“They’re gon’ get beat,” the hitter snarls matter-of-factly.
Apart from Sophie’s cunning reasoning to being a Pawn, Nate knew precisely which role they all were. Still, it was worth hearing them discuss it.
He scrunches up his serviette and throws it into his empty bowl with a pleased sigh. Parker smiles, and for a second he thinks she’s found something in the cereal box, but she throws it to the side, still smiling. Hardison rummages around the bottom of his bag for more fries, and Sophie pretends it’s no big deal when she nudges her plate of unfinished chips closer for him to eat. Even Eliot looks almost calm. At ease.
“Like I said,” Nate wraps up the conversation with a resounding tone, “You all know what you can do, but I know what you can be; together, as a team… And nobody, nobody, takes my team off the board.”