Where: Caldecott Home
When: September 9, 2012; Afternoon
What: Sometimes, it's just needed.
While it's no secret that Zan hasn't been staying at Timothy's since returning from his vacation, he has been leaving a sticky note with his whereabouts. Or at the very least, a Call me if you need me. The one left this morning indicated that the younger of the Caldecott brothers was at the family home, where he's spent every Saturday and Sunday since returning home.
And it shouldn't be of any surprise to find Zan in the basement of the mayor's house. The renovations, if they can be called as much, are coming along fairly well with walls finished and painted. The space for storage has been cornered and doored off. And the young man now works on installing lighting above the desk he'd wrestled down from his room while the solid rhythm of Metallica's Don't Tread On Me emits from his nearby phone's speaker.
It's mid-afternoon when Timothy comes by the house, pausing at the top to knock on the door to the basement. He's dressed casually, though not so casually as to assume he didn't nonetheless actually spend the morning in the office rather than doing something more recreational. Hands tuck into his pockets, and he waits, opening the door not long after knocking on it, but not descending down into the basement.
Music first greets Tim, though a second or two later Zan's head pokes around the corner to look up at the stairs. "Hey," he calls up to his brother as he disappears again. The music grows quieter, though isn't turned off entirely. "What's up," comes the younger Caldecott's voice, likely from the task he'd been on before the interruption.
"Wondered if you needed any help, or anything, or whatnot," Tim says, his voice descending down the stairs as he speaks, before he comes down to see what Zan has managed to do with the basement in the time spent so far. "Your note said you were here, haven't caught up with you in a while, figured that it was about time we should." He also comes bearing a late afternoon snack, likely by suggestion, the tray held carefully. "Brought some food and sodas down, too."
"Been busy with school and this," Zan explains. He's half draped on the desk by the time Tim comes down, fitting a trio of lights onto the hood of the desk to shine down on the workspace. With a screwdriver in one hand, he fixes one housing ring to the wood. "Movie I'm working on," he continues after a pause. A glance angles itself toward the tray, and he nods toward a paint can. "Let me guess, Mom sent that with you?"
Timothy grins. "Of course she did," he responds. "Apparently I wasn't allowed to come down here empty-handed, but she didn't want to disturb you by coming down here herself, and she's got some case right now and doesn't want to talk to me."
"Huh." Zan leans backward again to attach the last housing. "Well, here I am. Still alive and keeping out of trouble. Sorry some of my stuff is still taking up space at your apartment. Didn't want to haul it out and dump it at Rylie's just to bring it back over here." The screwdriver is set aside and he guides the wiring along the underside of the hood into little clips he'd set in earlier. "I'll be by to pick it up soon."
There's another hint of a grin from the elder Caldecott. "And what, it's taking up space that would otherwise have… air, in it. And isn't a trip hazard. Take your time, Alexander." The use of the younger's full name, at the moment, is clearly teasing, before Tim moves to find somewhere to set the tray actually down. "Mom also says she expects you to come up and join the rest of the world for dinner tonight, and I'm staying, so."
Rather than rise to the bait and correct his brother on which moniker he'd prefer to go by, Zan only shakes his head. "I'll have it gone soon," he says again, promising. He picks up the screwdriver and returns it to a small chest of tools while Tim relieves himself of the snack tray. "Of course she does. Well, I'll be there, but desert will have to be to-go."
"As you wish," Timothy responds, and then once he's put the tray down and grabbed one of the two sodas for himself, he promptly sits down in the middle of the floor. Not really in the way where Zan might step on him to get something needed, just apparently not planning on taking his leave any time soon. "So what's been interesting lately?"
Zan casts a look at Tim as he goes to take the other soda. "Since when did you take an interest," he asks, also helping himself to some of the food before moving away from the tray. "You know if you're going to be over here, visiting, you'll have to be comfortable with the idea of cameras recording. I was given a grant to produce a film, just one of the projects I'm working on."
Timothy seems to consider this, and then rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "You're filming your set-building process," he states, deadpan. "Well cross that bridge when we come to it. Unless of course, you'd rather I leave?" There's another pause. "Has that conference you asked me about happened, yet?"
"I'm not filming anything right now," Zan returns, just as flat. "And this isn't a set, this is my room. Mom and Dad agreed to let me move in here instead of my old room upstairs." It took some convincing on his part, debating with a lawyer of a mother on why he should be allowed to live in the basement. And then there were the conditions that came with it.
Setting his soda beside him, the younger Caldecott nods. "Last week. Business attire was the best bet, though I wouldn't have been out of place had I gone black tie." Not far out of place, anyway.
"And, how'd it go overall?" comes the next question. "Anything interesting come of it?"
"Nothing you'd be interested in," Zan answers ambiguously. He gives Tim another look, likely drawn from years of sibling squabbles between younger and older brother. "It was alright, though. Kind of dull, stuffy. Made Dad's things look interesting."
Timothy shrugs his shoulders and nods, though he fixes Zan with a bit of a look, questioning and as if is it really nothing he'd be interested in. "Yeah, I'm not surprised." Then there's silence, as Tim sips his soda, and lets Zan continue to work.
Resting so that he's partly sitting on the front edge of the desk, Zan regards his older brother for a moment or two. A conversation with their dad, now what seems like years ago though it happened late in the spring, tickles his memory, and after a moment he glances toward the stairway leading to the house. "I won't bore you with details," he says after a moment, wary, his gaze returning to Tim. "Just… I might need you to play the big brother card just once in your life. And not the one that goes ratting me out or turns into quasi-Dad."
This earns a raise of his brows, and then the expression immediately fades, as if Timothy is aware of just how much that makes him look like their father. "I might need some details," he answers, dryly. There's another moment of hard-to-read court face, and then Tim eases, a nod and a bit of a smile. "But I'll help if I at all can."
Another look directs toward the stairs and the door though it's out of sight, then Zan reaches over to turn the volume of his music up. Just enough to mask the conversation without drawing attention from upstairs. "I had to make a deal with a guy," he then explains, keeping his voice quiet enough that it's nearly lost on the music. "There's a list floating around with my name on it, and the city I live in, and I don't know what it means. It's kept on these encrypted thumb drives. This guy had one, until he sold it to me."
At this, Timothy actually looks worried, and nods. There's a long moment of silence after this as the lawyer thinks. "Right then," he responds, equally quiet. "Questions, then. One: Whose attention have you attracted to get yourself on such a list, Zan?" He sounds concerned, too. "Two: What other names are on the list?" A pause. "And three: How in the hells are you connected to those other names."
Some of the snacks Zan had taken for himself are eaten, slowly, as he considers the the questions. "First, I have no idea. I had no reason to think I'd be on any kind of list except maybe the dean's list." And this one definitely isn't a Dean's List of any sort. "Unlike high school, I've been keeping under the radar." Mostly.
"Second, the list is huge. I have a portion of it stashed away with the encrypted thumb drive I got." Zan shakes his head. "I don't know how I'm connected to any of them, nor am I sure if there's anyone I know on that list. As I have time, my plan is to start going through it to track down those here in Vegas and then in Henderson. To begin with."
Timothy nods again. "Right then," he eventually acknowledges. "And I come into this how?"
"Part of the cost of that encrypted drive was your legal services," Zan admits. "Which I wouldn't have offered at all but… Hell, Tim. I didn't even know the guy had a drive, it just came up and there was too much for it to be coincidence with the drive that the information I do have to just ignore."
Once again, Timothy's brows raise, "And just what is this guy you made the deal with into?" He asks, voice a touch towards stern. However, at least he doesn't say 'no' right away.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Zan answers. He folds his arms over his chest and looks toward the stairs again. "But I didn't like the fact that he had a drive and was holding out for the highest bidder. A drive that he gained by chance and has had other people looking for also. Timothy." The younger Caldecott brother looks up at the older. "What if it has relevant information to the list, or is the list. That's not something I want floating around the streets. If I'd had anything else to barter with, spur of the moment, you know I wouldn't have included your skills."
Tim shrugs slowly. "You did what you have to," he responds. "Just don't make a habit of this, okay?"
"When else have I ever asked you to play the big brother card?" Zan gives Tim an odd sort of look, almost like he's daring the older Caldecott to name a time such a thing has happened. "Not going to happen again."
