James was not completely back on track yet. He knew that. He knew that Paxton probably knew that. James kept his resentment to himself, much like Paxton was keeping his smugness to himself. It was simply hard to mask it entirely.
Paxton's question was neutral when he asked it, and James was glad for that. The demon was giving him a small grace, allowing him to get his full composure back. The truth was now that James was shaken, he kept thinking of it. His father's dismissal of him. His brother's blood choked cries for him to stop before silence, all silence except for James' own rapid breathing, descended.
Paxton moved a pawn.
"The Prince and the Pauper." James affected a bored tone if dismissal, ever uninterested in pursuing the easy kind of questions. Mark Twain was a snarky genius, though. James studied the board a moment before moving his own pawn forward.