More:
Unlike his brother, Shep's ambitions lie closer to home and mostly in storehouses of the other domes, not that he tells his family that. He and a small group of like-minded companions sneak out of the dome and sort through other domes' leavings as they wait for collection. The practice is illegal, and they run a fairly high risk, even setting aside the dangers of the land itself outside the domes.

Sample:
"We're not running tonight," Shep announced, ambling into the basement room they used to coordinate their jobs. Four sets of eyes darted to him, and he gave a liquid shrug. "Unless you'd like to go without me."

"Why not?" Scil asked, turning a slim knife over and over in his hands.

"It's my brother's birthday, that's why not. Family first."

This elicited a series of skeptical snorts from the assembled, but Shep ignored them, lifting his hands in a placating gesture.

"It's not like our takes have been fantastic lately -- we can wait another day."

Marda nodded, slouching back on the crate she was using for a seat. "Probably best to have a break, anyway ... they've stepped up patrols outside the north domes."

"Don't see why," grunted Marv. "Lot of fuss over their garbage."

"Well, if Central wants it for processing, I suppose it's not quite garbage, is it?" Shep rubbed his shoulder, sighing. "Either way, I'll be ducking out on you."

"Your baby brother's the one wants to sing for his supper, right?" said Marv, a dry grin briefly stretching his lips.

"No accounting for taste," Shep said agreeably, but his voice held an edge that caused his friend to drop his gaze. "But he's my brother."

Marda smiled, waving him off. "Then go be a good big brother. We'll be fine."

Shep returned the smile with an easy grin and bowed dramatically. "Later, ladies." Then he turned and ambled easily out the door again.