"I know," Credence says, and it's with a timid almost-smile as he moves a pawn on the opposite side after careful consideration. It doesn't mean he'll do it--no, not at all--but the thought is nice. Sam is one of the rare people that genuinely seems to not want anything from Credence. That in and of itself is scary.



Credence tries. He tries hard, too, and he likes to think it comes close. He has to ask for rule clarification, of course, and sometime between him taking a rook and Sam taking a bishop, Credence even finds himself smiling. It's soft and small but genuine, and lasts more than a fraction of a second. He scrunches his face up whenever it's his turn and there are a few times where he second-guesses himself, finger hovering over the piece before finally letting go of it.

Sam wins, and Credence finds that makes him happier.

"You didn't let me win," He says, and when he looks up that smile is on his face. He's actually looking into Sam's eyes. "Thank you."

He means it.