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Ara snapped out of his reverie. “Oh, err, I thought I saw something, but it's nothing, please excuse me. And… don’t worry. This will get better.”

Several moves later (and several “j’adoube” later – he just had to correct the position of those pawns going over those poor squares that didn’t deserve it), the boy seemed to be on the path to success; he’d captured both white knights, while his own was stalking the king with the help of a few cluttered (but equally menacing) pieces.

Meanwhile, he’d tried to observe Kirin without outright staring; you just don’t stare at ladies. He was still completely certain there was something wrong. Actually, gathering his memories and the most recent data, he understood what made the girl stand out in his mind…
… she most certainly had had cancer during the past years. It all made sense. The way the disease and the chemo modified slightly her traits and hit her femininity, her much too perfect hair, the way her body adapted and moved, her attitude, her secret love of life’s things such as karaoke, her defying of the Barren Pines staff by hacking her way into a floor she wasn’t supposed to live in.
Of course, in hindsight, Arastoo had completely forgotten his theory concerning Kirin’s name. If asked, he’d deny having ever thought this was a serious idea. I mean, just who would give a string of code for a child’s name, now?
Also, actually, he had never seen a cancer patient with his own eyes during his short life. But he didn’t care; after all, you don’t need to travel around the stars in order to be an astronomer.

It was all clear to the freckled guy, and he would need seriously contradicting information to think otherwise. But even though the “girl” must have been sick at some point of her life, and might still be, he didn’t even consider letting her win. She didn’t need his pity, she only needed an opponent.
Thus, he pushed his rook forward one square, touching it only with his fingertip, a satisfied smile on his lips. “Checkmate.”

“Good game”, repeated Ara, as he proceeded to shake his opponent’s hand. Immediately after that, he began putting the pawns, black and white, in their right places. He didn’t need to think to spout stats; instead, he had to restrain himself not to restate the obvious with an unnecessary amount of words and numbers: “It does. Nice opening move and nice counter-attack with your queen 11 moves ago, by the way.”

Arastoo was pretty smart, but whenever the human or natural factor went into play, he could fail pretty epicly, and never notice it even when the absolute proof would sneak up behind him to bite his a**. That’s why he asked casually, with no hint of malice whatsoever in his voice: “I presume you learnt all these tactics while playing at the hospital?”

The funny thing with Arastoo’s mind, is that he tended to skip directly to the conclusion. He only realized after the fact his train of thought wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.
And Kirin’s reaction didn’t look good at all.
… which only confirmed his theory. Of course she would hate hospitals after enduring chemo! (Though the gentlemanly part of his brain reminded him as coldly as Kirin did that health is part of someone’s privacy and should never be brought up without a warning. No actually, why am I even bothering, grumbled that same part, just shut up next time, right? Shut up and stop making a fool of yourself.)

“Err, I didn’t know how to bring it up, I’m very sorry if it hurt you. What I meant is… I should have noticed earlier you’ve had a hard time with the treatments for that kind of… disease.”
Quick calculus time. Most likely case: the girl is going to slap him if he doesn’t say something else now.
“You seem to be in good health now, but you can ask me for help if you have a problem with anything, I insist.”
Ara was pretty satisfied: he completely got rid of the previous risk. What’s the worst that could happen to him now that he has shown genuine sympathy?...

Our mathematician had exactly two big problems:
-he kept seeing patterns and important hints where there weren’t any;
-and he could not know if what he said is offensive because nothing much really offended him at all.
And both of these issues were now associated in a hideous but vaguely hilarious combination of misunderstandings and untold secrets.
As if he had taken the hint, Ara lowered his head, biting his lip. “… alright. I understand.”
A pause. “... shall I accompany you back to your room…?”
He had avoided the most physically painful consequences, but instead, there was that familiar confusion. He wasn’t devoid from empathy, far from it, but he just didn’t understand why people kept sending mixed messages.