Linden only half-hears what's become, on the surface at least, nothing but small talk. About the weather, for crying out loud, the most mundane of possible topics. Though there's an undercurrent of truth and dissent there, very possibly, it's well-hidden, and it's nothing more than an accent piece to the game that's simultaneously killing and liberating one of Panem's ragged, exhausted, enslaved Mentors.

While this game is usually played by Linden, he had a partner once, someone who generated white's moves as he smirked and toyed with him. It was, all things considered, a very gentle way to beat someone, letting him down easy and allowing him to get away with the same kinds of rookie moves and mistakes that Phillip's currently making so as to drag out the game unnecessarily. Though Linden has since realized why he lost that game and conceptualized hundreds of better outcomes, obsessing over it, he's never actually switched up the board even in a solitary theory game.

This is huge, and Phillip is perceptive to get that it is.

He swallows, closes his eyes, takes a corner bishop between the pawns to ensnare one of PG's rooks. His blood is rushing in his ears, heart pounding through his chest. "Everything..." he croaks hoarsely, staring at the pieces, wondering if it's too early to rejoice. Seeing the game through to the conclusion is the important part, second only to actually winning this time.