Re: Voice: Amy M/Si M
[He expected her to come in. Si was stretched on the "sofa"—ass on knotted, thrift store quilt and feet up on a ratty chair—, busy lighting up another cigarette in the smoke-closed space that he looked out of place in. His half-empty (half-full?) beer was between his thighs. He wasn't dressed impressively, but, then again, he never was. Loose pants hung from long legs in the low light, the little place lit by various lamps plugged into various power strips.
But, when his sister's voice called out from beyond the cracked door, Si looked up, just as his lighter flickered out. His voice, when it carried, was pitted with amusement.] Are you staying out there? [A grunt, and he stood, carrying his beer by the neck. Ducking heavily, he leaned out of the door, cigarette dangling there between lips. His phone was his in his pocket too.] I'll start it when you're inside. [He looked at her yellow coveralls. At her loose hair. At her face. Then, he ducked back inside.]