Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

Anatoly considered his options carefully, knowing better than to think that he had Trumper on the run so soon in the game. He leaned forward to get a better view of the board and noticed the direction his opponent's eyes were focused on. He bit his lip, his eyes darkening in anger then bent his head quickly, hoping no one would noticed.

He had to focus solely on the game, no other distractions allowed. Trumper could look all he liked. It wouldn't do him a damn bit of good and would surely only contribute to his fall. All the same, he couldn't help the desire to give him a taste of his own medicine and throw the board in his face.