A Pawn in Your Game
I decided to interpret it that way, though not without some skepticism.
While I was lost in thought, Zach had already picked up a bottle and bowed halfway before me, filling my glass with precision.
It appeared he knew when to be firm and when to bend when necessary.
Under the shifting lights, his chiseled face looked impassive, his eyes revealing nothing, as though he had transcended all worldly desires. It was laughable that, even in this situation, he still clung to his pride.
Deliberately, I tipped my glass over, spilling wine onto his pristine white shirt.
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