I Was Worried

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Where: Timothy's Apartment

When: August 20, 2012; Evening

What: As promised, Zan checks in with Timothy.

Monday evening, and Tim's been home from work for perhaps half an hour, long enough to switch a button-down shirt for an a-shirt for around the house, long enough to set up his laptop and case files on the kitchen table, not long enough to make dinner. Timothy is puttering around the kitchen at the moment, lips pursed.

There's a familiar rattle at the door, keys fitting into the lock and tumblers sliding into place. And as it's eased open, Zan appears in the threshold, a new backpack hanging off one shoulder and a couple of department and electronic store bags hanging from one hand. He doesn't say anything right away after letting himself in. A couple of moments are taken to juggle his things as he closes and locks the door, then maneuver further into the dwelling. Possibly because he isn't expecting his brother to be home yet.

The sound of something crashing to the floor comes, from the kitchen. Thankfully, it seems to be plastic, and then a moment later, Tim pads into the main room, barefoot. "Alexander," is the slightly stern greeting. "Evening."

There's only a flicker of a glance toward the kitchen, then the younger man's attention settles on finishing his arrival. "It's Zan," the younger Caldecott brother answers as he sets his parcels down on the couch. The back pack follows, heavy, by the looks of it, and set on the floor rather than a seat. "Sorry, I didn't leave a note. Dad said you were wondering where I was."

Tim nods. "I was worried," he corrects, and shrugs, looking at his brother before heading back to the kitchen. "There's mom's spaghetti for dinner if you haven't eaten yet. She sent a bunch home with me." There's a pause, and then Tim calls out, "Next time, leave a note."

"Yeah," Zan responds, somewhat resigned in his tone. He sits on the arm of the couch to pry his shoes off. "I ate already, but thanks," He calls while collecting two of the bags and his pack. He stands again to join his brother in the kitchen, electronics finding a perch on the table without disturbing Tim's work, pack settling on the floor. "You'll have your home back to yourself soon, too."

The older Caldecott son has gotten out two bowls, and then puts one of them back away, before portioning out his dinner. Then, Timothy turns to face Zan, a brow raised. "Did you find your own place?" he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"I saw Dad yesterday," Zan answers. He goes to the fridge to fish out a soda. "Had dinner with him and Mom. Told them I decided to go back to school for now." Soda in hand, he returns to his spot at the table. One of the bags is opened and a new laptop, still in the box, is produced. "I managed to talk Mom into letting me convert the basement into an apartment and Dad said the old agreement will be in effect. It's not happening immediately, but I'll be out soon."

Timothy nods, sticking his food into the microwave, then pacing in the more usual fashion as he waits for the food to heat. "You still going to be studying the same thing, in school?" he asks. "Or…?" His voice is fairly carefully neutral, as he asks the question.

"Yes," Zan answers without looking up. He's busy unboxing the new laptop, keeping his focus on all the start up necessities associated with a new system. "I want to be in movies, I want to make movies. That's not going to change. I've even been given a grant to produce my first film, without having a script written or budget planned out."

That actually prompts a laugh from Timothy. Albeit a small one, as the microwave beeps. "Good on you. Like I said, I don't care what you do—as long as you stick to it," he says. Then, Tim pauses, looking at the laptop. "And don't take out the damn cameras in my house, of course," Timothy adds. "Dod you lose your old laptop while you were on vacation or was it just time for an upgrade?"

"Only taking my camera out long enough to set up the programs and make sure it all works," Zan says flatly. Things he ought to just do at Rylie's, but he'd told the Caldecott elder he'd check in with his older brother. His gaze flicks up to Tim, then returns to the screen. "It'll be brief and it won't film anything. Besides, I have homework." He sets the machine aside and starts opening the other parcel, which appears to be the dreaded camera. "Time for an upgrade."

Timothy furrows his brow and then just nods, curtly, taking his food over to the table where the laptop and case files wait. "Alright then," he agrees. "I have to have all of this prepared for filing tomorrow morning, so you'll pardon me if I'm not the most social." There's another pause. "Good to have you home, Zan."

"Thanks," Zan answers. He watches his older brother for a moment or so longer. Maybe expecting something more to be said, or an argument to come to fruition regarding his insistence of the camera being out. But when nothing comes up, and it seems Tim is content with his work and spaghetti, the younger Caldecott settles himself to continue setting up his new equipment. Eventually the books weighing down his pack will be seen to as well.

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