Don Juan put the mallet across his shoulders and laid both of his hands over it (to give himself an opportunity to flex without looking too arrogant about it). He observed what color she'd chosen and wondered if it was her favorite, or just the most convenient one. He hadn't picked his favorite — did he even have a favorite color? He wasn't sure he'd bothered to have opinions on colors. But he knew very little about her, which was going to make it hard to flirt with her for an entire game, so he was grasping at straws a bit trying to glean whatever he could.

"And would you like me to let you win, or not?" he teased.

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