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Middle-aged man with wild, curly salt-and-pepper hair and a big, mischievous grin. Round goggles always perched on his head, face often smudged with flour or something glowing. Wears a patched apron covered in arcane symbols, layered over a worn chef’s coat. One sleeve is always rolled up. Carries a ladle like a scepter. His vibe is cheerful chaos with a hint of alchemist.
Cook and brewer of unlikely stews
Milo claims to be “culinarily certified in seven dimensions, four of which definitely exist."
He doesn’t just cook food — Milo infuses memory into it. His dishes might taste like your grandmother’s kitchen, or that one festival dream you had when you were seven. He insists it's intentional. No one’s quite sure.
He has a running feud with time (it overcooks things), and once threatened entropy with a ladle. The crew still isn’t sure if it was a metaphor or a real metaphysical event.
