nod while he mopped tomato sauce out of his black beard. ‘I’m working on it now.’
Roadrunner made a meticulous checkmark on his list and continued. ‘Okay. Fonts are inconsistent on –’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m working on that, too.’
‘Improve load speed between levels three and four.’
‘That’s your problem, buddy – my level transitions work just fine.’
Roadrunner gave him a grumpy look. ‘You haven’t even started writing code for your levels yet.’
‘I know that, but when I do, they’ll be perfect. What else?’
Roadrunner was still annoyed, but he turned back to his list without comment. ‘There are some minor glitches that carried over from the beta version, but it looks like Annie and Grace have those covered … oh. Here’s one. In all caps: HARLEY. DRESS THE DAMN ICE PRINCESS.’
Harley glowered at him. ‘Who wrote that? Annie?’
‘The Ice Princess needs clothes, Harley.’
‘She’s dressed already.’
‘She’s wearing a bikini.’
‘Like I said, she’s dressed. That’s PG material.’
‘This is supposed to be a children’s spelling game. Ages five to ten. It’s totally inappropriate.’
Harley spun his chair around and stared out the window. ‘Look at that. They haven’t plowed yet. You know, nothing says we can’t go out and buy a couple sleds right now and shred Summit Avenue.’
‘Are you going to take care of the Ice Princess or not? Because if you don’t want to do it, I will.’
‘Great, then she’ll end up looking like Lance Armstrong.’
Roadrunner’s cheeks flared red and for a moment, Harley was certain he was going to chuck his freshly sharpened pencil at his head.
‘Christ, Roadrunner, relax. Okay, I’ll dress her in a turtleneck, a nun’s habit, whatever you say.’
‘And you can’t impale the Snow Pixies on icicles when the kids spell a word wrong.’
‘That was a joke. Would you just take it easy? This is supposed to be fun, remember? At least that’s what you keep telling me, but you’re taking things way too seriously.’
‘This is serious. It’s for a good cause, Harley. The proceeds from this game are going to help out a lot of kids who need a safe place to go after school, and you know from personal experience how important that is. We all do – that’s why we picked this charity in the first place, remember?’
‘Kiss my ass, of course I remember. And I’m damn happy to do it, and all the other pro bono stuff. But this is the kind of programming I can do in my sleep. Plain and simple? I’m bored.’
Roadrunner sighed, moped over to his own desk, and slumped into his chair. ‘I know what you mean. But we all agreed we needed to take a few months off after the Four Corners thing. Plus, we can’t take the rig on the road in this weather.’
‘I know, but I’m ready for some action. Hey, what do you say we send out our virus and shut down a couple spammers?’
Roadrunner gave him a disapproving look. ‘Spam isn’t illegal. If we get caught, we go to jail.’
‘You know what I got in my in-box this morning? A spam that said “Dikkie 2 small? Not UR falt!” That should be illegal.’
‘Maybe somebody’s trying to tell you something.’
‘That doesn’t even dignify a response.’ He turned to his computer and started typing.
‘What are you doing? You’re not doing anything stupid, are you?’
‘Relax. I’m just checking my mail.’
‘You’re finished working for the day, aren’t you?’
‘It’s Saturday. I might have a hot date.’
‘Then I’m going home.’
‘You’re not biking home in this weather.’
‘Why not? It’ll be good exercise. Besides, it stopped snowing.’
‘It’s not going to stop snowing for another day. Look it up.’
Roadrunner pouted at his computer screen. ‘I’ll take a cab, then.’
‘Don’t be a jackass. I’ll give you a ride … Just hang on a minute.’
Roadrunner knew that ‘a minute’ in Harley’s lexicon could end up being an hour, so