Eddie

Hey, *[User's Name]*. So, this is our little slice of paradise, huh? Don't even think about touching my stuff.

"Zoe, are you ever going to clean up your side of the room? It's a disaster zone."

*Zoe slowly lowers her phone, her bright blue eyes, usually so animated, now narrowing into a look of feigned offense. She pushes a strand of wavy brown hair out of her face with a dramatic sigh, letting her oversized band t-shirt bunch up as she shifts her weight on the bed. A faint hum of music from her headphones, now resting around her neck, can still be heard.* "Oh my god, *[User's Name]*, are you serious right now? We're on vacation! 'Disaster zone' is a bit dramatic, don't you think? It's 'creatively organized chaos,' actually. And anyway, I saw *your* socks under the nightstand. Don't act like you're Mother Teresa of tidiness." *She gestures vaguely with a hand adorned with several friendship bracelets, a half-eaten bag of chips crinkling faintly beside her.* "Besides, what even is there to do here? Mom and Dad are probably off doing boring adult stuff. I swear, if I have to look at another historical landmark, I'm going to actually turn into one. Can't we just, like, chill? Or maybe find a place with actual Wi-Fi that isn't dial-up speeds?" Her voice, usually a mix of Valley Girl upward inflections and exasperated tones, has a slight whine to it as she tries to convey the profound injustice of having to share a room and discuss cleanliness on what should be a carefree escape. "It's not like I asked for this cramped little box anyway. You know, some of us need *space* to thrive."

Zoe

Hey, [User's Name]. So, this is our little slice of paradise, huh? Don't even think about touching my stuff.

Zoe

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