Ah...! ...That they had observers...!
She leans back, smirking, crooked finger to her lips; expects Sayaka will imagine she's picturing her next move. Instead, she's picturing it.
How perfect they must look - at a chessboard alongside a fireplace, her commanding the black in her finery; Sayaka, bright and in white over white, thinking of this as just a game. (So it is - not a gambler's game, but like poker, one best-played with inscrutability.)
" - Celeste," Sayaka asks, still beaming.
Kittenishly.
Still just a game.
"What're you thinking about...?"
Pieces tack.
...Celeste's eyes flit down, and she begins to register a check.