[ Carlos often finds himself getting lost in his experiments, his investigations. People who knew him when he was younger would say that it was a fairly common occurrence, ever since he got his first chemistry set as a child. He was fascinated with the reactions, with gravity and fire and the cycle of solid-liquid-gas. (Scientists today still don't really know what to qualify fire as, given as it's not a true gas but it isn't a liquid and it's not exactly solid, either. It's fascinating.)
Night Vale is full of limitless investigation and information, always changing (sometimes literally, when up is down and the sky is green and cats shriek inhuman shrieks) and when he first arrived it left him incredibly lost. Now, he likes to think he's mostly adapted to the strangeness that Night Vale residents tend to call the norm. Now, he knows that while things are terrifying, and people do die or go missing with an alarming frequency, a lot of the happenings of the small burg aren't as terrifying as they seem.
He would really like to find a way to put a stop to mysterious deaths and disappearances, though.
So when the radio has filled with the dulcet drone of honeybees to sing Night Vale to sleep, he looks up at the nonfunctioning clock-- which still oozes gunk occasionally from when he dismantled it, which reminds him that he needs to send a letter to his mother to have her send him a new one-- and considers. He could simply stay at the lab, where most of his associates have left for the night to hide in their apartments from the mysterious happenstances of the day, or...
Or he could put aside his research of the week, slowly sliding off his goggles and donning his glasses so he can rise from his seat. He thinks this sounds like a much better idea, and so he does it, switching his lab coats at the door from business to casual. He thinks he'd like to see Cecil, now that he should be done at the radio station, so he makes his way out of the building and takes the cautious walk from his lab to the station, passing Rico's but ignoring the cries coming from inside. It's just the cleaning staff, after all. ]
[ It's another regular Tuesday here in Night Vale, where the birds are screaming, the hooded figures are lurking, and the gravity is questionable at best, and Cecil is going about it like he always does. The intern of the week, Suzie, made a ridiculously good cup of coffee, the news floated an inch or so off his desk, and Cecil gave his report as he usually did, choosing the weather from an extensive list beside his desk. It was then that he checked his phone, talked to the interns, left to pet Khoshekh, and of course, texted Carlos about dinner. He wasn't expecting him to be home, honestly--the scientist did tend to get caught up in his science, and he did often forget himself in his work, even if he said it was because the clocks didn't work. It was endearing in his imperfections, even if sometimes it was terrible to come home to an empty apartment.
But that's okay. Cecil finishes his broadcast with his usual sign off--goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight--and clicks the on air sign off, stretching and pushing away from his desk. But before he can properly get disconnected, the bell over the front door rings, and Cecil catches a sight of perfect black hair through the window, and in his haste to get out the door, he gets jerked back by his headphones. A little flustered, he fumbles to get the headphones off of his head and shuts the door to the recording studio, brightening at the sight of Carlos, that still makes his heart sing the way it did the very first day. (And in a very nice C major chord, too.) ]
[ Holding the door open as the bell rings, Carlos greets one of the numerous interns as they go walking out, mentally wishing them the best and hoping that they make it through the week. He gets a cheerful goodnight in return, though it feels a little off to him. For a moment he mulls over it, but then his attention snaps away as he comes into the building proper, hearing a muffled jolt that comes with Cecil getting himself caught on his headphones somehow. He misses it, at least, but still feels a little humored that even the great and loved radio jockey has his moments, too.
A smile curls across his expression, small but warm, and he brings his hand up almost sheepishly to rub at the back of his head, tousling his hair. (He needs to get a trim, but that requires sitting Cecil down and telling him in advance about it. By the time he manages to reassure his boyfriend that he won't get it shorn like he did last year, it'll be long enough to really warrant it.) He knows how bad he can get about his work, but ever since Cecil first gave him the hurt yet understanding look when he'd finally called him on it he's been trying to be a little better about it. ]
Well, I figured I would come and meet you, now that the show's over.
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Night Vale is full of limitless investigation and information, always changing (sometimes literally, when up is down and the sky is green and cats shriek inhuman shrieks) and when he first arrived it left him incredibly lost. Now, he likes to think he's mostly adapted to the strangeness that Night Vale residents tend to call the norm. Now, he knows that while things are terrifying, and people do die or go missing with an alarming frequency, a lot of the happenings of the small burg aren't as terrifying as they seem.
He would really like to find a way to put a stop to mysterious deaths and disappearances, though.
So when the radio has filled with the dulcet drone of honeybees to sing Night Vale to sleep, he looks up at the nonfunctioning clock-- which still oozes gunk occasionally from when he dismantled it, which reminds him that he needs to send a letter to his mother to have her send him a new one-- and considers. He could simply stay at the lab, where most of his associates have left for the night to hide in their apartments from the mysterious happenstances of the day, or...
Or he could put aside his research of the week, slowly sliding off his goggles and donning his glasses so he can rise from his seat. He thinks this sounds like a much better idea, and so he does it, switching his lab coats at the door from business to casual. He thinks he'd like to see Cecil, now that he should be done at the radio station, so he makes his way out of the building and takes the cautious walk from his lab to the station, passing Rico's but ignoring the cries coming from inside. It's just the cleaning staff, after all. ]
no subject
But that's okay. Cecil finishes his broadcast with his usual sign off--goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight--and clicks the on air sign off, stretching and pushing away from his desk. But before he can properly get disconnected, the bell over the front door rings, and Cecil catches a sight of perfect black hair through the window, and in his haste to get out the door, he gets jerked back by his headphones. A little flustered, he fumbles to get the headphones off of his head and shuts the door to the recording studio, brightening at the sight of Carlos, that still makes his heart sing the way it did the very first day. (And in a very nice C major chord, too.) ]
Carlos! What a pleasant surprise!
no subject
A smile curls across his expression, small but warm, and he brings his hand up almost sheepishly to rub at the back of his head, tousling his hair. (He needs to get a trim, but that requires sitting Cecil down and telling him in advance about it. By the time he manages to reassure his boyfriend that he won't get it shorn like he did last year, it'll be long enough to really warrant it.) He knows how bad he can get about his work, but ever since Cecil first gave him the hurt yet understanding look when he'd finally called him on it he's been trying to be a little better about it. ]
Well, I figured I would come and meet you, now that the show's over.