“Ayup!”
Dexter perks up, nodding. “I was a scout in middle and high school. My mother thought it would be good way for me to make friends, after all. Hahah… I hope you don’t find it a bit nerdy. I’ve always sort of been an outdoorsy kind of person, I suppose.”
He fiddles with his camera, a little. “Even as a kid. When I was younger, there was an incident with my dad and I camping. We were gonna go ice fishing, but he wasn’t much for the outdoors. He did it for me, mostly. So he didn’t understand safe ice lake conditions.”
Dexter pulls at his scarf. As he pulls it down, you see the bottom half of his face. He’s got black facial hair, a little bit thicker than Melvin’s, but patchy. There’s a couple strips and pocks that are marked with scarring. Considering Dexter’s whole… aesthetic, you might presume that its frostbite induced.
“You have to respect nature. That’s what I’ve learned over the years. Respect nature, and nature will respect you. Its like dancing with a lady at a ball. The motions ebb and flow. You either learn to go with the motions and move in conjunction, or it’ll step all over your feet.”
Dexter pulls the scarf back up over his face. He likes it better that way. Its warm.
“Which is why I worry. None of this is particularly natural. Though I suppose we each have our strengths! I’d be good in the wild, and you’d be good… in the kitchen? Ah- that sounds mean, sorry sorry!”
