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[Movin' it along, guiz. o Ao;;]

The knife flipped out of Blackfell's hand, spinning artistically through the air once or twice before slamming into the wall as if the raven-boy had thrown it. "Hello boys," said a masculine purr that definitely wasn't the voice of their captor.

None of them could possibly recognize the person who stepped around the door. He was a tall, thin man of Asian descent- his black hair hung in choppy layers around his face, with spectacles that dangled free of their arms to perch on the tip of his long nose precariously- one got the feeling that if he so much as dipped his head, they would tumble off. A black tattoo spiraled from the back of his neck to run along his jawline in a swirling, artistic pattern; a matching set adorned both wrists. His clothes gave the impression of a professional- a button-down white shirt, tucked into black slacks, and black loafers. On his left wrist was a black watch. He rested one elbow in the palm of the opposite hand, using the free one to push his glasses up his nose. "The name's Bond, James Bond," he said, curling up his fingers and flicking them out again in a nonchalant gesture.

"And I don't think little boys should play with knives." The man walked out to the wall and plucked the knife free as easily as he had evidently sent it flying from Blackfell's fingertips. "Although that girl probably wouldn't notice if you died. Your spirits are trapped here until she's done with you, so you might as well sit tight."

With a flourish, he offered a chess board that came from seemingly nowhere. Since the colors remained the same as Blackfell's pocket knife, it was reasonable to assume that it might be the same item transfigured. "Let's make a deal. You beat me, and I'll let you out, no matter what the freak says to me. But if you lose, you have to give me something you value."

He paused, collapsing to the floor and pulling chess pieces out of the air. They were pretty, elaborate things- obsidian and gold, the 'white' side unformed compared to the minuscule details of the 'black' side. His 'king' was clearly himself, and the 'queen' a woman who might be related. One almost thought that the opposing side might shape up to the whims of the other player. "Of my choosing," he added, "since I don't think I can trust you all to say fair."

Ean almost rubbed his hands together in glee. CHESS. Now there was something he could actually do. He had played plenty of times, and always beaten his opponent. A little game wouldn't be too difficult to win, would it? Unless the other cheated - or was far more experienced than him. A smirk slid across his face, and he held up his hand.

"Alright. Chess? What are the rules, if there are any, may I ask?"

Might as well find out the worst. After all - there were so many deceptions and lies that went around with the game. It wasn't just little black and white figures moving on a board. No - it was outright war. Most of the time. Part of the time, if the game wasn't serious, it was just that. A game. But if these two didn't know how - or didn't WANT to - play... then it would be his job to play and win. And if he lost.... offer something valuable as forfeit. He just hoped that the man [whose name was NOT 'James Bond' - come ON... did he think they were born yesterday?] would not choose what he thought he might choose - in the case that he did lose. And fairly.

Ean was wary from that moment. Anyone offering him the first move almost automatically meant that they knew what they were doing. Or were cocky. One of the two. He sat crosslegged on the floor, and studied the board for a good five or six minutes before moving a pawn.

"So... what is your REAL name? And don't tell me it's James Bond. It can't be. That's taken and copyrighted. You can't seriously tell me that you have the rights to it."

He snickered, and crossed his arms. He'd just won the game in the first move. IF the other didn't cheat. But if he did...

"While you're at it... WHO are you?"

Blackfell watched the pair talking and playing in silence; bull crap his name was James Bond, copyrighted or not. He was too busy watching the game to realize the man had spoken to him and Merenth, and the boy jumped when he realized Bond, Martel, whatever his name was, was looking at him.

He frowned at his questions, his gold eyes glaring. "Why should I bother to talk when you two are so busy with a game I hardly know anything about?"

Mereneth had fallen silent at the mention of chess, choosing to say nothing. He knew zilch about the game, and anyway, Ean had offered to play. Now he was just a bystander.

"What Raven said." He muttered, glancing at the man again. James Bond. Hah. This guy was a mystery.

"That's not it either."

Ean was starting to get tired of the game, of the cheating, and the guessing. His eyes narrowed. He'd memorized the board briefly - always did with chess - and that Knight had NOT been on that side of the board.

"Unless your Knight grew legs and walked, I'd suggest you replace him to where he was, before I call your bluff, and the game is mine by circumstance."

The boy pushed his silver hair back behind one ear, and studied the board again.

"And move the Rook back, too. I know it wasn't there before."

He pulled back, crossing his arms, and looking across at the man, eyes still narrowed.

"Unless you WANT me to play while you cheat - and still beat you."