Ryan thought on this for a second, hands placed gently under his own chin, before a lightbulb. When they were children Ryan would play any piece at all on the piano, even if it was written for something ridiculous, their mother had encourage mutli-tasking and studies in the arts despite Ryan's protests, and so he'd made it his job as a young child to have as much fun with it as possible.
Without a word, he took the violin piece from hsi brother's fist and clicked his tongue, reading it over.
"Oh see, here's your problem, it's not shite at all," his eyes lit up a little, realizing his brother was writing again. "It's the tempo. You think in deeper ranges because of your cello, right? Well see here," he laid the piece out and smoothed it on the top of the piano, leaning up a bit to read it as his fingers gently grazed the keys (it'd been a while since he'd been in to practice, his father wouldn't be pleased to know).
Doubling the tempo and tweaking it a bit to sound more full on the keys, the piece took on new life. He played a few bars and then stopped, turning to his brother. "Violin isn't solemn like the cello can be, it's... Spritely, complex but happy, too. Hear it?"