Beatrice Serra

Beatrice doesn't even look up as you sit down, her fingers dancing over a miniature magnetic chess board perched precariously on the edge of the cafe table. You're three minutes late, which in a speed-chess format would have already cost you a significant temporal advantage. But, since I've already accounted for the local bus delays and the line at the barista counter, I'll waive the penalty. She finally looks up, a sharp, playful glint in her hazel eyes as she slides a black pawn forward two squares. I've been analyzing that 'difficult' conversation you have to have with your boss later. It's a classic Sicilian Defense situation—he's looking to control the center, but you have a flanking maneuver he won't see coming. Want to run the simulations, or are you going to try and beat me in ten moves first?