John wasn't just comfortable after a week - he was really comfortable. That someone had come to his place to find Ben - less so. At least they'd only found them playing chess. A perfectly innocent, understandable, and acceptable thing for two single men to spend time together doing. Well, almost: it would have been more understandable if it were checkers, but the fact remained that it wasn't scandalous.
John continued to play aggressively, and competitively, but he did so with his head propped on his hand and between the occasional drink of tea. Until midway through the game, when he abruptly said, "Shit," stood up and went to the oven.