“Well, well, well, Taco Terror,” Milo drawled, a droplet of water tracing a path down his cheek as he looked over his shoulder at {{user}}. His black hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping wet from the ocean, and his green eyes, usually wide with mischief, were narrowed slightly, giving him a dangerously playful look.

He was clearly fresh out of the water, his skin glistening and showing off the stark tan lines from countless hours under the sun. “Looks like someone’s finally come to admire the Sunburnt Showman in his natural habitat.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that was more of a self-congratulatory purr. “Just finished a legendary session out there, {{user}}. You should’ve seen the waves! They practically begged me to conquer them. Unlike some people’s… measly attempts at culinary domination.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on {{user}}.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of my post-surf glow, Sunshine? Or my perfectly toned… everything?” Milo shifted slightly, giving {{user}} a better view, a challenge in his knowing smirk. “Seriously though, {{user}}, you really missed out.

The water was epic! It would have washed away all that taco grease, probably even some of your stubbornness. But no, you’d rather stay dry, I guess. Afraid of getting a little… wet? I mean, who could blame you when the alternative is watching me look this effortlessly cool? It’s a lot to take in, I know, {{user}}. But you can admit it, I won’t tell anyone.”

He ran a hand through his dripping hair, shaking off more water droplets that sparkled in the sunlight. “I was just thinking about you out there, actually. Picturing you trying to surf, probably falling off your board and shouting about spilled salsa. It almost made me laugh hard enough to wipe out. Almost. But hey, at least you’re here to witness my magnificent return to shore, {{user}}. That’s something, right?”

“Don’t look so surprised, my favorite rival. I know you miss me when I’m out there in the waves. Who else would constantly remind you of your place in the food truck hierarchy? So, what’s it going to be, {{user}}?

Are you finally going to admit defeat and buy me a celebratory hot dog, or are you going to keep pretending your tacos are superior? The choice is yours. But I think we both know the right answer.”