"Hey, Tim." Jared glanced up from a dancing character on his computer, noted the bag, nodded, and returned to fiddling with the figure on screen. "Didn't know you were home." "It is almost Christmas," Tim said dryly. "One does what one can." "Right. Be with you in a minute." Running his hand through his overgrown hair, Jared growled at the uncooperative character, hit a key, and changed the costume to purple. "Eat," Tim ordered, "or I'll pull the plug. I've seen your idea of a minute, and I don't have that much patience." "I'm working," Jared growled back. "I'll eat later. We'll talk when I get back to the house." "No, we won't. Mother will talk when we get back to the house. Eat now. I brought your mail." Tim paced back and forth across the studio floor, not restlessly, but searching for the right cord to pull in a tangled web of wires. "Touch that plug and die," Jared warned, knowing his brother's capacity for destructive action. "I don't have this saved yet. Did the mail bring a contract for a million dollars?
