Her intensity was surpassed only by her strategical superiority. This was the finale of the best-of-seven series and, as the old saying goes, she simply wanted it more.

Lost in the moment was her embarrassment at even being here. How could someone of her intellectual acumen have allowed an opponent – a human, nonetheless – to have won one game, let alone three. While she meticulously calculated, the human just shouted out random letters and numbers.

“G-4! “B-7!” “H-10!”

No discernible pattern and more misses than hits, but it was enough to force this improbable seventh game. There was no way she’d allow herself to fall to this inexplicably fortuitous buffoon.

Now, if there was only some way she could get out of being his partner on Pictionary night.