Chess. A pass time for many intellectuals that had weathered the test of time and the scrutiny of countless eyes. To our friend, Mr. Samson, it was a means to level his thoughts for a moment; he indulged more thoughts of acting out his compulsions, rather than actually acting them out. Sometimes thinking of the little wicked things you wanted to do was better than doing them.

He clicked his palps thoughtfully, and eyed the people that passed his little table set out in the middle of the park. Thus far no one had come to challenge him; he thought it might have something to do with the fact that he was a giant cockroach wearing a bowler and a monocle, but with further consideration, he deduced the bowler and monocle had little to do with it. Oh well, though... someone would come; they always did, and he had his thermos and tea cup to occupy him while he waited.

He filled up the cup, too a sip, and relaxed in his chair, eyeing the fully set out chess board in front of him as he let his mind wander... How far could you throw a transient before the impact from landing actually killed them... He was sure the answer to that could change due to the situation; he would have to test it out to get a general answer some time, though.

Hunter as jogging through Central Park. He’d come to like his jogs through the park. It was pleasant scenery and while you didn’t often stop and make conversation with people who you passed you often got a friendly smile or nod. Seemed that Central Park was where New Yorkers went to be nice.

One sight that he didn’t often see was a giant cockroach with a bowler hat and monocle sitting at a table with a fully set up chess board in front of him sipping tea. More than a little brazen for such an obvious mutant. That alone was enough for him to stop and wonder over. “Are you waiting for an opponent or can anyone step in?” he asked. After playing Juka he now itched for a better game. He had no idea whether or not this mutant was any good but there was only one way to find out.

Roach let out a bemused click as he saw the gentleman approaching, and took another sip of tea before setting the cup down. This man wore a look of curiosity, rather than the normal fear or disgust; this was a welcome change from the norm. The man asked about a game, to which the cockroach replied in his well-practiced deep English accent.

"I have, indeed, been waiting for an opponent, but none in particular. If you'd like, you could be him. That is, unless you a preoccupied." Mr. Samson crossed his walking legs where he sat, gesturing for the man to sit as he reached over to his tea and brought it to his maw for another sip. He wondered briefly what would happen if you threw a cat into a pot of boiling water, or better yet, lava, and then rolled his large eyes in pleasure at the thought before dropping the cup to the table once more.

"Are introductions called for?" It was a polite way of asking in the man cared to give his name or not.

Hunter offered the mutant a smile. “Having just been exercising my muscles I feel my brain could use a little exercising as well,” he said taking a seat, “So consider your wait over.” The English accent was unexpected. Somehow you didn’t expect a cockroach to have an upper-class English accent.

“I’m Hunter Antonescu,” he said extending a hand to shake the mutant’s hand, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. So do you have a preference for black or white or shall we randomly decide?” Naturally Hunter preferred white as you started with the initiative but he could play black almost as well.

Roach returned the smile with what might be called his own; you really couldn't tell when Roach was smiling. "It is good to hone both, is it not?" As was his response to the man's first statement. The roach sat upright, reaching out carefully with his rather pointy fingers to shake the human looking man's hand without stabbing or cutting it.

"Gregory, It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Antonesu." The roaches eyes sparked with a caliber of joy when the work random came out. "Random... I enjoy random. I'll leave it up to you, good sir! I have not coin or dice to let fate decided, do you?" Roach returned his hand to hits default position on the tea cup, and waited to see what his new acquaintance either decided, or let something else decide. He personally didn't care either way if he went first or last; he didn't play chess to win, merely to think. Lobster... Lobster was a nice meal; he would have to kill and eat one soon.

“Indeed it is,” Hunter replied. The mutant’s fingers ended in sharp claws so he was careful not to cut himself as they shook. While it was hard to tell Hunter believed that he was smiling at him. He wasn’t exactly an expert at reading the facial expressions of cockroaches.

“While I have no coin or dice there is an old method that chess players have used.” Grabbing a white pawn in one hand and a black pawn in the other he mixed them up behind his back before holding his hands out. The white was in his right hand and the black in his left. While not an entirely random method of selection as someone who was very skilled at reading body language would be able to discern which piece was in each hand. However Hunter had a solid poker face so this should be random enough to suffice.

A few clacks came from the roaches mouth in response to the choice game. Interesting, indeed! "Ah, We'll make a game of it in itself, then!" He knew that the man just wanted him to pick a hand right off the bat, but he felt it might be more entertaining to draw it out a little. "Do you mind if I ask a question? Did you think about which hand to put which piece in, or did you just let it happen on its own?" It was a very important question; personally, Roach wouldn't have thought about it, but most people were not like him.

He looked the man up and down quickly as he waited for a response; he certainly was an odd being, that much could be deduced on sight. He was eccentric, filled with tics and quirks that normal people would associate with a psychopath. He wasn't crazy, though, merely different. He thought about eating a bucket of chalk and then coughing clouds for a day; that made him laugh a little.

Hunter couldn’t help but smile at Gregory. He seemed to enjoy the little game to decide who would play first. Hs question was indicative of one of two things. Either he simply delighted in games or he was attempting to read his body language and the question was to also give him a hint so he could get the colour of his choice.

“While I wasn’t specifically thinking which hand to put the pieces but the number of swaps I made was an arbitrary number I picked so in a sense it was random but also I decided,” he replied with a grin. Basically he’d answered yes to both and wondered how Gregory would take it.

The Roach lightened up at the response. Clicking his clackers for a moment before he spoke. "Ahh, A controlled random move. Guided, yet not marred by a close and insistent hand! Most agreeable!" The Roach didn't give the man's hand another look, and returned his attention to the impatiently waiting chess board as he spoke.

"Open your hands, friend, I choose black! It suits me more, and I have it that you would prefer the first move anyways." He finished his tea in a measured sip, and then poured himself another cup. "I hope you aren't bothered, I did not bring another cup along with me; you would be hard pressed to find someone who enjoys tea in this city." He filled the cup to the brim, letting it steam for a moment before taking his first sip. "Personally, I enjoy coffee just as much, but I felt more in the mood for the good leaf this morning. It gets me in an intellectual mood."

Gregory was certainly a curious fellow. He seemed pleased with Hunter’s answer and dismissed the semi-random choice and chose the play black. With a nod Hunter replaced both pawns to their respective places.

“You are correct,” he answered while considering his first move, “I would prefer to play white. While the playing second makes little difference to some it makes all the difference to others. Plus I always like to have the initiative in what I do.” Finally he settled on d4 as an opening.

“New York is not known as a city to relax in,” Hunter remarked as he sat back and waited for Gregory to make his move, “Thus coffee is more popular. Personally I prefer a good cup of tea to any of this Starbucks coffee nonsense but it does appear that I’m in the minority.”

"Yes, For some, taking the initiative is important. I go both ways; sometimes it is best to respond with your eyes and mind open." Mr.Samson twitched his antennae to the left and the right a few times as he spoke, thinking about snapping one off for some reason. He didn't, because that would be a horrible idea.

The giant cockroach popped his mouth three times as he considered his next move, and then took a thoughtful sip of his tea while using his smaller intermediate left hand to reach out and daintily pick up his pawn and move it to G6. The chess playing insect pause for a moment, his hand still resting on the piece as he set down his cup, stared at his hand for a moment, looked to his opponent, and then let it go as he listened to the man speak.

"You are right, It is not known as a city to relax in; and yet, here I am. You would think all of the chaos would keep someone of the edge of their seat, but it is where a being like myself thrives. Indeed, I am more at peace here, where most will avert their eyes, than in some grassy plain where a mob would be at my feet; I suppose that is why I chose to find a nice little coffee shop of no global importance to spend much of my time. It was just like me in that sense; passed upon by those with a more... wide spread ideal on what is enjoyable." The shelled creature leaned back, crossing his legs and folding all of his arms as one mused. "Your move, Mr. Antonesu."

((Did he say his name differently on purpose, or was it a typo? I wasn't sure))

(OOC: Typo, my bad)

IC: “Quite so,” Hunter agreed, “for you can not always count on having the initiative so the ability to observe and react is invaluable and a skill that should be kept sharp.” Gregory’s twitching antenna caught Hunter’s eye momentarily but he thought it rude to stare so kept his eyes on the man’s face.

“It is true, people in New York are often so wrapped up in their own lives that they don’t notice much of what goes on around them. Which is a shame because there is a lot going on if you pause and open your eyes. For example if I’d been running today head down and iPod in then I would have missed an opportunity for a game of chess.” Hunter remarked.

Turning his attention to the game at hand he thought Gregory’s opening move an unconventional but interesting one. After some thought he moved a pawn to c4 and waited to see how the unusual man would respond. He doubted it would be boring.

Gregory caught the slight, though well hidden eying of the lovely decorations on his forehead. He thought it humorous more than anything else; many people who were visible mutants felt offended then others pointed out their appearance in any way... Mr. Samson was quite the opposite; the liked how he looked. He was, quite possibly, the sexiest insect in the universe in his mind. In inverse, he really couldn't care less what another being looked like; it only mattered how entertaining they were, or how they tasted.

He let his mandibles hang open as Hunter spoke, and nodded slowly. "Yes, and I would be without a companion to enjoy the game with." The bug eyed the chess board for a moment, reached a hand down to pull up some grass, lifted up his hat, deposited the clump of grass onto his head, plopped the hat back down, and then moved his bishop to H6.

"Tell me, friend, where this game played with real people, could you make the sacrifices one often does in chess? I have yet to see a game won without a piece lost on both sides."

He spoke as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary; he only blinked three times as he waited for Hunter to respond.

Hunter merely arched an eyebrow quizzically as Gregory deposited some grass beneath his hat. While he certainly was a most strange fellow Hunter had met many odd people in his long life. Admittedly Gregory was stranger than most but that was no reason to make a fuss.

The man’s intriguing question came with an equally intriguing move. By advancing his bishop in such a fashion he was directly threatening Hunter’s bishop. Rather than surrender the initiative to Gregory and react to the bold move he instead advanced a pawn to e4.

“I have commanded battles,” Hunter told Gregory in answer to his question, “And often you cannot win the day without loss. If you are not prepared for anyone to die then they all will. While I have recently revaluated several aspects of my life I am still well aware that there are times when sacrifices must be made.”

Hunter was not missing the thrill of command. No longer would he be ordering people into situations where they could get themselves killed. Before he could do the cold, hard calculations and make the right call. Now though he was loathe to sacrifice anyone. That didn’t mean he could no longer do the calculations. If possibly he’d like to stick to just sacrificing chess pieces.

His new friend eyed his grassy action with an appropriate reaction, and Mr Sanson nodded in agreement. "You are right, that was quite a silly thing to do." He lifted his hat and brushed the clump of grass from his head, placing the hat back on it's home once more. His eyes lightened up at little as the man mentioned having commanded troops. A military man? He wouldn't have expected; he didn't seem so straight laced.

"I see... You don't mind a wretched creature such as myself inquiring about the past of the man sitting across from him, do you?" Mr. Samson paused for a moment, twitched his antennae, and then shook his head. "On second thought, I believe I will save questions of that sort for later. I find your comment on revalutation rather interesting... Pardon the prying, but you have me quite intrigued. What product of the mind has your new evaluation fathered?" He spoke while switching his eyes from the board to his opponent, finally moving his pawn to c-6 with his secondary right hand while finishing his statement.

Not to ignore his beverage, he took a short sip, and then eyed a passing dog hungrily... He was feeling a bit peckish, but it could wait; he has something more compelling to attend to. He got into the action of cleaning his antennae as he waited for the next move, curving them in, and then running his hands down their length to remove anything that might be clinging to them.