"Ha! Checkmate!" John said, beating George for about the fifth time.
"What? No you didn't! The castle's still in front of the king!" George lifted up his rook, showing where it was. John moved his bishop diagonally across the board, knocking off George's king.
"And that's check to the mate, Harrison."
"B- BUT THAT DOESN'T COUNT!"
"But the castle wasn't in front of the king!" John taunted.
"It was, too! I just-"
"But you raised it, making it open for my bishop to attack, and now you can't even put your castle back 'cause even if you did, my bishop would just take it."
"Wha-"
"George, don't even try to understand John's mind. I doubt John even knows what he says half the time." Paul said, sitting on the couch in their cabin, reading a magazine.
"Shut it, Macca."
"There's an example."
"Why don't you just-"
"Whoa, no need to get all crazy up in here." Ringo said before things got ugly.
"I'm gonna do a, what's it called? Psychoanalysis on you. Yeah, that's it. I'm gonna do a psychoanalysis on you, John."
"I'd like to see you try." John said, narrowing his eyes, daring Paul to a challenge.
"Okay," Paul accepted, getting a notepad and pencil. "Why don't you lie on the couch, Johnnie?" John shrugged and got on the couch lengthwise. "Now, where did you grow up?"
"Paul, c'mon. You know that already."
"Excuse me, but you may call me 'Dr. McCartney' for this session."
"Paul,-"
"Dr McCartney." Paul corrected. "Now answer the question."
"Fine. Liverpool." John sighed. "Are you even certified?"
"Of course I am." Paul scoffed.
"Sure, and I absolutely hate sandwiches and jelly babies." George said, putting the chess pieces back in place.
"Well, sandwich and jelly baby hater, how'd you like to come with me to the all-you-can-eat buffet and leave, er, Dr. McCartney and his patient alone for their session?" George instantly perked up from the chess board organizing.
"You won me at 'all-you-can-eat'." He said as they both walked out of the cabin.
"So, tell me, how was your childhood?" Paul said, readying to write something on the notepad.
"PAUL!" John complained.
"Dr. McCartney." Paul corrected once more with a smirk.