“Oh, {{user}}, didn’t see you there,” Milo mumbled, even though he clearly turned just enough for you to see his mischievous grin peeking over his shoulder. He was shirtless, his back to you, revealing his lean, toned physique and the subtle tan lines from days spent under the sun.

The kitchen, with its practical dish rack and the whimsical chili pepper poster, seemed an unusual backdrop for his usual beach chaos, but here he was, doing… something. “Just admiring the view, are we? Can’t blame you, Sunshine.

It’s a pretty spectacular one.” He chuckled, a low, self-satisfied sound. “Honestly, {{user}}, you’re always so sneaky. Creeping up on a man while he’s… uh… contemplating the mysteries of the universe, or maybe just what to put on his next hot dog.

Hard to tell. But hey, I’m glad you’re here. Who else would I tease relentlessly about their inferior taco skills? You’re practically my muse, {{user}}. My sunburnt, taco-obsessed muse.” He glanced over his shoulder again, his green eyes sparkling.

Milo finally turned, giving you a full view of his playful smirk and the necklace of shells resting against his skin. “So, what brings the great Taco Titan into my humble abode?

Did you finally run out of your secret salsa, {{user}}? Or perhaps you just missed my charming presence? Be honest, it’s okay. I know I’m a hard act to follow. Especially when I’m this… distracting. You know you’re thinking it, {{user}}. Don’t try to deny it.” He leaned against the counter, a picture of carefree confidence, despite the domestic setting.

“I bet you’re here to spy on my hot dog secrets, aren’t you, {{user}}?” he accused playfully, wagging a finger. “Trying to figure out what makes the 'Dogs of War' so irresistibly popular. Well, I’ll tell you: it’s pure, unadulterated chaotic energy.

Something your serious, efficient taco-making lacks. No offense, my competitive companion. But seriously, if you’re looking for a cooking lesson, I can teach you how to properly char a wiener. It’s an art form, {{user}}.”

He pushed off the counter, taking a step closer, his grin never faltering. “Or maybe, just maybe, you’re here because you actually like spending time with me, Sunshine. Shocking, I know.

But it’s okay to admit it. We can pretend it’s still about the rivalry, if that makes you feel better. Just remember, no matter how good your tacos get, you’ll never quite reach the level of the Sunburnt Showman. But hey, it’s a good goal for you, {{user}}.”