Sicilian Defence - Benny Watts

nine - the calm.

florence shaibel.

THE ORPHANAGE HASN'T CHANGED. It still looks the same as it did nearly two decades ago, when Florence still lived with her father.

The church service is nothing out of the ordinary, either. It's a near-empty room where a priest reads out a few verses of spirituality and wishes us the best, wishes peace and forgiveness upon Florence's father.

Florence cannot bear the thought of listening to another second, and so she leaves halfway through the funeral.

She makes her way through the orphanage hallway, tears building up in her eyes once more, the thought that she truly was alone this time, was finally hitting her.

She didn't care for a funeral where nobody really knew the man, or cared for him, she was the only one there who could've possibly known a thing or two about William Shaibel. Except Beth Harmon.

"Florence?" That familiar, sweet voice calls out.

"Beth?" Florence responds, glancing over her shoulder to see the chess prodigy standing there in the hallway behind her.

"Why are you here?" The two ask at the same time.

"The funeral." Beth responds first.

"Me too." Florence responds.

Beth pauses for a moment. "Florence Shaibel. William- your father?"

Florence nods.

"My chess tutor." Beth sighs.

"I didn't know you knew him." Florence confesses.

"Likewise." Beth mumbles.

"My father taught you chess?"

Beth's arms defensively cross around her chest, as if she had a dig taken at her. "What's so surprising about that?"

"Well, my father taught me. I'm no chess master." Florence lets out a breathy laugh, something to break the tension, in hopes she won't break down in sobs in front of Beth.

"I see." She nods. "I have to ask, what happened with you and Harry?"

"What do you mean?" Denial is the first option for Florence. Always.

The two sit down on a bench just by the entrance of the orphanage, staring up at the place they both used to call home.

"Well, he gave me a call, said he was going through town and wanted to see me."

A tug gnaws in Florence's stomach, the anxiety washing over her again. She stops talking about her lost father, now it's about her lost house and friend.

"He moved out." Florence admits, swallowing the anxiety down after she speaks. "I've got to find a new place."

"You can move in with me, if you'd like." Beth offers.

The two girls both knew that the offer was half-assed. It was a nice thing to say, a thing a friend might say, but not the sort of offer to be accepted.

"Thank you, Beth- it won't be necessary though. I'll find somewhere." Florence smiles weakly at the girl as the metaphorical cogs begin to wheel in her mind. "Actually..." She trails off.

Beth's smile strains. "Actually?"

"Do you know Benny's house address?"

"In the city?" Beth questions.

Florence nods. "New York City. His home address."

Beth slowly nods. "You have any paper?"

Florence fishes through her purse, wondering what kind of writer wouldn't carry around a notebook, and held out the black leather book to Beth.