Page 8 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
As Andrew and Tim entered, the difference between them was striking, and not just because Andrew was handsome and Tim wasn't. His brother-in-law was dressed in a well-fitting suit, while Tim looked like he'd gotten dressed in the dark after a three-day bender. The little hair he had was sticking up at odd angles, and the t-shirt he wore under his unbuttoned dress shirt proclaimed, 'I'm Not Antisocial, I'm Selectively Social.' He also carried an oversized art case that seemed to weigh him down on one side.
His nose twitched like a bloodhound's as he eyed the Chinese food.
"Is that moo shu pork?" he asked by way of greeting, not bothering with hello. "And spring rolls? And..." He pushed past Andrew, following his nose. "General Tso's chicken! You beautiful bastard, you actually got everything on my list!"
"Hello to you, too, Tim," Kian said dryly.
Tim was already at the table, carefully setting his art case down next to his chair and grabbing a plate. "Yeah, yeah, pleasantries,whatever. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I had decent Chinese? The place near my apartment closed, and everything else tastes like cardboard soaked in soy sauce."
"Maybe if you cooked—" Andrew began.
"Cook?" Tim looked genuinely offended. "Why would I waste my time on cooking when other people can do it for me? That's like asking Michelangelo to mix his own paint. A waste of genius."
Anandur caught Kian's eye and mouthed, "Michelangelo?"
"Tim, I'd like you to meet Esag," Kian said in what he hoped was a patient tone. "He's the one you'll be working with today."
Tim glanced up from loading his plate, giving Esag a quick once-over. "You look a lot like that one." He waved his chopsticks at Anandur. "Brothers? Cousins?"
"Soul brothers," Esag said.
"Oh, you're British. How exciting." Tim went back to piling food on his plate. "Who do you need drawn?"
"An old friend," Esag said. "Someone I have not seen in a long time."
"How long ago is a long time? Because memories fade and details get fuzzy. Last year? Five years? Don't tell me this is some childhood sweetheart thing from thirty years ago."
Esag opened his mouth, possibly to say five thousand years, so Kian quickly intervened. "The time frame isn't important. Esag has an excellent memory for details. He's an artist himself, but he works in a different medium."
That got Tim's full attention, and he actually looked at Esag. "What's your passion?"
"Carving," Esag said. "I carve figurines."
"Requires patience I don't have. When you see me work, you'll get what I mean. I'm usually done in under an hour." Tim turned his attention back to the food, still loading his plate, which by now held enough to feed three people. "Did you order crab Rangoon?"
"Over there." Anandur pointed at a closed box. "Not a single one of us is a fan of that dish."
Tim's face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. "More for me. Do you have beer?"
"In the fridge in the kitchen," Anandur said. "If you want it, you'll have to get it yourself. We are not your servants."
"Fine." Tim pushed away from the table. "No one touches my crab Rangoon."
"I think it's time," Kian said when Tim was out of earshot, searching the refrigerator for treasures.
"Time for what?" Andrew asked.
"To tell Tim about his potential heritage and give him the choice. I feel guilty about putting it off for so long."
"We don't have a compeller with us," Andrew said. "If Tim rejects the idea, or if he's not ready to come with us to the village right away, we'll have to thrall him to forget what we tell him, and that doesn't make sense. We can do it some other time. Perhaps when Kalugal wants a portrait of his father drawn."
"Tim will want to come." Kian scooped some fried rice onto his plate.
"Based on what?" Anandur snorted. "The guy's about as cooperative as a rabid wolverine."
"Not when he has something to gain," Kian said. "And this is a bigger gain than any he has extorted from us over the years."
"So, what's the deal?" Tim returned with two bottles of beer and an opener. "We're doing this tonight or what? Because I've got a Netflix marathon planned for tonight, and—" He stopped mid-sentence, finally seeming to notice the tension in the room. His eyes narrowed, darting between the faces watching him. "Okay, what's with the weird vibe? Did someone die? Because I don't do memorial portraits."
