We are not the same. You and I least of all.

[She presses her lips together, considering him with scorn. His motives here aren't exactly hard to discern.]

And it befits a man ill, to be so sore in losing. I beat you fairly, within the bounds set for us. She won fairly, doubtless in the same wise. Lick your wounds more quietly, and do not slander me to soothe your ego. You are not champion because you earned it not.