Faye Dunaway and Steve McQueen sit opposite each other, assessing, wondering where their game of cat and mouse will end. She rises suddenly, walks over to a chess set and looks down at it speculatively.
"Do you play?" he asks.
"Try me," she says.
And so they play. A finger caresses the curve of a bishop, plays with a lip, runs up and down a bare arm, fidgets with a tie, brushes a knee under the table. They smile, exchange glances as the fire crackles in the background.