You're always talking, but you're not playing

He smiled at the marble hued male and settled down on the opposite end of the board, his two companions eyeing the man with interest. “How do you play?” He asked with a cheeky smirk and a slight tilt of his head. This game seemed interesting to him. How did the sticks come into play? What did the symbols mean? He waited for an explanation and took the opportunity to examine the man more closely. There was a look to him that struck him as eerily familiar but he kept the thought to himself for now, there was a scent on him that he recognized as well. Hannibal’s bitch. He kept his expression carefully neutral even as realization dawned on him of who the man was, or rather who he was related to.

In his mind Thys had betrayed him every bit as much as Hannibal and Leera had, the three had after all conspired against him. He couldn’t say for certain that this man was any better, but perhaps the game would reveal more about him than Tyranis anticipated. He crossed his paws over each other, blinking in careful measures, appearing interested while internally he listened for the best way to beat him at his game. He was intelligent enough to account for strategy, but how much of the game was based on luck?

Word count: 226

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