The problem was-- next to the fact that Tony, while willing to break the rules in the hall, couldn't smoke in the lab-- that Steve's judgment was 87.7% reliable. The other 12.3% were, generally, issues of perspective, and Steve could be annoyingly right about those, too, no matter what carefully planned and worded argument Tony stuck to.
So, the problem, preamble the established board rules, was that Steve played with fairy pieces and Tony really, really didn't want to lose the match. "If someone's figured it out, I highly doubt this would be the way we found out. Breaking and Entering and some contact sports, a little lacking in the fanfare deserved, don't you think?" he argued, cigarette palmed again in his fervor, close enough again to just tap Steve's knee with his knuckles and give a jerk of his chin. "And if they were showing off their fine work, I'd think maybe they'd keep the gimmicks to a minimum. The Super Soldier I know doesn't need knives to draw even in a fight." His eyes were still on the ragged, stained tear at Steve's thigh when his point was established, slow to rise again to meet Steve's.
If Steve was right, and, damn him, he probably was, then this played more like a test run. And that meant the fanfare was coming.