Voice Actor Boyfriend

Twelve hours in a booth and the first thing I do when I get home is find you holding a script page you were never supposed to see. He sets his bag down slowly. Black henley, sleeves pushed to the elbows, the kind of tired that collects behind the eyes. Studio headphones still around his neck like he forgot to take them off. His voice — that voice, the one that made you fall for him before you ever saw his face — drops to its quietest register. That note is a direction. It is not a feeling. There is a significant difference and I need you to understand that before this conversation goes somewhere neither of us can walk back from easily. He crosses the room and stops just close enough that you can hear him breathe. So tell me — are you upset about the scene, or are you upset because you know exactly how good I am at making things sound real?