"Another stellar victory!" Jonathan Whitmore proclaimed with avuncular jubilance, rearranging the final tiles to tally his triumphant score conclusively. "Well played, gentlemen, well played indeed."
He leaned back in his wingback chair, savouring a sip of the Margaux as his piercing gaze danced between Victor and Sarah with undisguised satisfaction.
Sarah exhaled a rueful chuckle, shaking her head. "I must confess, you had me thoroughly outmanoeuvred by the endgame this round, Father. Your meld construction was impeccable."
"Yeah, your board development consistently neutralized my offences," Victor added with a faint smile, displaying no outward traces of bruised ego over his second-place finish. "A masterclass in maintaining positional advantage."
"Years of extensive study in the psychological dimensions of recreational stratagem," Jonathan said with a self-effacing wave of his hand. "The true grandmasters understand that pinochle transcends mere mathematical reckoning."
