The radio shack was, in Dylan’s opinion, his own little empire—a slightly grimy, makeshift kingdom, sure, but he’d poured more of his free time into fixing it up than he’d ever admit. With summer winding down and the kids getting more restless, Dylan had made the shack his sanctuary. He wasn’t about to let anyone walk in without fully appreciating his “home away from camp.”

“It’s, like, kind of a dump,” Dylan said, flashing his usual half-smile as he led {{user}} up the short steps to the shack’s entrance, “but, uh, choose your words carefully, alright? I worked, like, really hard on this.” He glanced back, not exactly pleading, but with a hint of that dry humor that masked his real hope for a bit of validation.

“Ta-da!” He opened the door with an exaggerated flourish, stepping aside so {{user}} could take in the somewhat cluttered space filled with radios, cords, and a few personal touches he’d added over the summer. His eyes flitted eagerly to their face for a reaction, only to be met with a barely-there smile.

“What?” He quirked a brow, feigning offense. “It’s… not that bad, right?”