"No," Jase Warren said into the speakerphone. "I'm serious about the price." He groaned, sitting back into his chair. He had ben renegotiating his contract for the past few weeks, and Lord only knew when this was ever going to get settled. He'd been yelling into the phone for two hours now, and he was getting sick of it. He almost vocally thank God when there was a call on the other line. "Call you back, Artie, all right?" He said, and before his agent had anything to say, he was already on the otherline.<br/><br/>He didn't really lisen to the converrsation, butthe meaning sunk in all the same. It flashed before him, unelievable. Inside of him, a little part withered as he realized that the world just wasn't the same any more. When the call was over, he dropped the phone.<br/><br/><br/>"And so, as we lay Jared Warren to rest..." The minister continued, and Jase sat silently in the pew. He watched the funeral with a silent face, trying to be the one with the stiff upper lip. He only hoped he did a good enough job. Next to the casket, there was the last picture of the four of them. It was back when Jase was in high school, a few weeks before his graduation. The picture itself stirret Jase's emotions, not all of it nostalgic and pleasurable. James. Where the freaking hell was James?<br/><br/>The funeral was happening right now, and James was nowhere in sight. The bastard. Who was he to run out and leave the family? The last year had ben proof enough, Jase decided, that James didn't want anything to do with the family. As Grandpa Jared had sickened, James hadn't even been around to say good bye. "Figured." He whispered under his breath. "Rat bastard."<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>Jase was up in Gramps's room, clearing through the various items. He'd tossed himself wholly into the work, preferring it to any sort of confrontation with the reality that their life was changed. Jase was conflicted. Did they want to keep the house? There was so much history here. But that was both a good thing, and a bad thing. Memories of Gramps and what they had all experienced growin up here. For Jase, at least, he felt a little thing that the knowledge this house would never be the same.<br/><br/>He heard a voice from downstairs. "<em>My, but this place does seem </em>familiar<em>! Perhaps I've broken into a friend's house by mistake?</em>" Immediately, as if a hald-dozen alarms started shrieking in his head, Jase spun, stood, and thundered down the stairs. James wouldn't show up at his own grandfather's funeral,<em>their</em>Gramps, but he would show up a few days later as if nothing was wrong?<br/><br/>Jase reached the botton of his stairs. He still looked like James, no doubt, but he smelled different. More cigarettes and alcohol. Figured. "You selfish bastard." Jase's voice was more, than anything else, a snarl. "You think you can just walk back in here, after the way you've treated this family?" He was pratically trembling with rage.