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CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND BOARD GAMES
🕑 Added 2025-03-03 09:46:40 +0000 UTCThe kitchen table was a riot of color, covered in a sprawling board, a jumble of plastic pieces, and a heap of tiny fake money. Maggie shuffled a deck of cards, her expression a mix of patience and quiet amusement.
Contessa studied the setup, her brow furrowing slightly. “This does not resemble any real-world scenario.”
Maggie chuckled. “That’s not the point, hon. It’s about strategy. And luck.”
Contessa picked up one of the miniature tokens—a tiny car—and held it between her fingers. “This is meant to represent me?”
“Yep,” Maggie said, grinning. “You’ll roll the dice, move around the board, buy properties, and try to make the most money.”
Contessa turned the piece over. “Capitalism, distilled.”
Maggie laughed. “More or less. You ready?”
They took turns rolling the dice, moving their pieces, and following the instructions on the board. Maggie jumped ahead, buying up properties early and stacking her tiny houses with a satisfied grin.
Contessa, on the other hand, spent the first few turns quietly observing. Calculating.
Then she made her first purchase. And another.
When Maggie landed on one of Contessa’s properties, she let out a low whistle. “You’re ruthless, hon.”
Contessa counted out the rent owed, her expression neutral. “I am playing optimally.”
“You’re playing to win,” Maggie corrected, her tone teasing.
Contessa tilted her head. “Is that not the objective?”
Maggie grinned. “For some people. Others just play to have fun.”
Contessa considered this as she moved her piece forward. Another purchase. Another slow tightening of her control over the board.
By the time Maggie was scraping together cash to pay rent, Contessa’s side of the table was a model of order, her properties arranged in a flawless system. She was, by all accounts, winning.
Maggie stretched, letting out a yawn. “Alright, I concede.”
“You do not wish to play until the conclusion?” Contessa asked, her tone curious.
“Nah. I know where this is going,” Maggie said with a smirk. “And I’d rather not go bankrupt to my own houseguest.”
Contessa surveyed the board. The game had followed a clear, logical path. An inevitable one.
She had won.
Maggie pushed the fake money aside and reached for the deck of cards. “Wanna play something less cutthroat?”
Contessa hesitated, then nodded.
She had already mastered this game. Perhaps another would present a challenge.
