At the coffee shop, the conversation is flowing.
Sometimes the room falls into a silent lull with players in deep concentration.
The only sound, a slurp of latte and chairs scraping against the floor.
Leo Hague, 20, and Joe Myers, 26, got lucky. Most of the chess boards here are flimsy wooden ones but their board is marble, the pieces smooth and weighty.
This is the scene that Brookes envisioned. Two men, strangers 10 minutes ago, connecting.
“It’s not just about talking to somebody, it’s about somebody asking the right questions,” says Hague.
“If you’re just asking surface questions all you’re gonna get is surface answers but if you ask deeper questions you’re gonna get to know that person, gonna get to know what they’re struggling with.”
Myers has his own personal reasons for wanting to come down.
He is currently seven months sober and the “happiest” he has been for a while.
“I know first hand it’s really difficult to talk. I’ve had depression and I’ve been suicidal before and I’ve had a drink problem,” he says.
“I couldn’t talk about it. I had it all bottled up inside. It was my wife that helped me so much.
“If I can talk to other lads here I will for sure.”