Jinn heard the exchange between J'mon and Eddie, but he did not offer his own input. He kept his thoughts to himself as they descended to the first floor and made their way into the bar.
The shatranj board was still there, still on the same table he had placed it all those weeks ago. It was made of fritware, a type of glazed clay mixed with glass that no one in the modern world bothered with anymore. Its old, weathered pieces had been moved by many hands, the handcrafted figurines shiny from the touch of so many fingers.
Jinn stood over the board without speaking. To him, it looked as it had always looked: inert, familiar in a distant way, like a welcome distraction. He glanced toward his other two companions, gaze flitting from Eddie to J'mon, and waited for the judgment to fall.