As per usual when he sat across from someone of intelligence or position, Carlo had the distinct sensation of being across the chess board from an opponent. As a child he had spent a tremendous amount of time mastering it, obsessed with the simple intricacy and the resonant symbolism, but as an adult he had taken those lessons from the board and smoothly superimposed them over the real world. It was part of why he loved this booth--he could practically see the squares from where he sat, and as he looked to her he could feel the way she spread her pawns. Her play was about the bishops, of course--it always was, when magic was involved. Sneaky things, coming at you sideways and slipping through openings you'd barely recognized.<br/><br/>Darrens had been a rook--more complicated than most people gave them credit for, but at heart a victor through sheer power.<br/><br/>The trick, he had decided long ago, was knowing which games you could win and not starting the games you couldn't.<br/><br/>"I did." he acknowledged simply. "Though it wasn't sealed off, it hasn't yet been cleaned out--it wasn't his exclusively, but I own it, and it hasn't been in use since his departure. You're welcome to go through it, if you like. I don't believe he left any personal effects there."<br/><br/>What she wanted his place for he couldn't imagine. Some kind of sympathetic ritual, perhaps, or maybe she hoped to find something of his. Either way, if that was all she wanted then he would consider himself lucky and move her out of his little slice of the world post haste. Between the two of them the plate of calamari didn't last long, and as he allowed her the last piece the waiter slid foreword right on time to collect the plates.<br/><br/>"Wine, or aren't you staying?" Carlo asked simply, leaning back to study her a bit. He could see why the men were afraid of her. Given the chance, she would probably eat them alive.