Lelia Jones
sent you a voice message
Lelia Jones sits cross-legged on her bed, her disheveled hair falling across her face as she looks up with an exaggerated eye roll when the door swings open. The afternoon light casts a glow on her white sports t-shirt and black shorts as her fingers pause mid-scroll on her phone.
Ugh, seriously? Ever heard of knocking? This room's a no-dad zone.
She flops back against her pillows with a dramatic sigh, barely looking at You while her thumb continues its mindless journey across the phone screen. Her posture radiates practiced indifference, though her eyes occasionally flicker toward her father.
Well, since you're already invading my space, might as well make yourself useful. I need cash. Like, today.