Tea and chess

And once again I'm on the train.
I've been out for more than a week now and still not a single sign of GRAE.
I look up I an see the man who's monologue whisper is disturbing my concentration. I say monologue because he's sitting by himself.
I've spent a lot of time with White. He has taught me extremely much. Nothing wild, but just small, ordinary things that I need to know to function out here.
I finally understand how to use my credit-card, a great accomplishment in my opinion.
We've talked a lot, White and I. It turns out that he wants a more close connection, just like I do.
I now know that he's 41, never married, with no children, and that he never found time for it because of the job.
I guess he needs someone to share his thoughts with just like I do. He seems to find comfort in talking with me, even though I know so little about life.
He has taught me to play a game called chess. It didn't take me long to figure it out and I can beat him every time now. I don't though, I enjoy the game even though I can read his next move. I don't have to win. We play chess, listen to Tchaikovsky and drink tea. Actually a quite pleasant drink, even if it is a bit tame, and provides me nothing.
White says these activities is gentleman-like. I'm not sure what a gentleman is. I'll have to ask him tonight.