hey I just met you and this is crazy [closed]

[youbarium]

Who| Carlos and Cecil
What| ...he's totally calling.
Where| The Tribute center and Cecil's apartment, since this is a phone conversation.
When| Week 4, around nine or ten on Wednesday morning.
Warnings/Notes| Cecil is a sixteen-year-old girl.



Carlos picked up the receiver of the public phone and stared at the sleek, modern keypad. He glanced over his shoulder -- this wasn't a phone call he particularly wanted witnessed. Not because he planned to do anything particularly scandalous, no: it was just the principle of the thing. Him, fresh out of the Arena, calling someone who had publicly declared interest in him -- it didn't matter that Carlos's intentions were completely impersonal and unromantic, he knew what it looked like.

But, reassured that he was alone, Carlos dialed the number that he had, in fact, memorized. He held the receiver to his ear and listened to it ring, waiting.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, not after Kevin -- which was something he still didn't want to think about, even after a good night's sleep. If Carlos was hoping for anything, it was that this Cecil was his Cecil, the familiar one from Night Vale, who had simply gotten here before Carlos and would be able to tell him something useful about this place. But really, Carlos doesn't know who will pick up the phone, so he stands there, keeping his breaths even and his mind clear.

Comments

[youbarium]

No Carlos isn't going to touch it, that might encourage Cecil and Carlos is always very careful not to do that. But he does look at it closely for a moment before sitting back and putting his glasses back on with a businesslike air.

"So you did do it deliberately. That's good. I'd thought it might have been a case of degenerative dermal petrification, which can get really bad if left untreated."

[void_whereprohibited]

Cecil looks down at his arm. His expression is suddenly much more uncertain-- the nervous excitement half-replaced with self-consciousness.

"Oh," he says, because he isn't sure what else to say, and withdraws his arm. He folds his hands in his lap. He isn't actually sure what that combination of words meant, exactly, but the meaning is clear - Carlos thinks the pattern looks like a disease. How embarrassing is that? "Well, it's-- it's not! So, no worries!"

The statement sits in the air only two or three seconds before he can't help following it up, trying to bridge the awkward gap left by his self-consciousness. "I mean, originally I was thinking, what if I went for, like, feathers? Or some of those mask designs? It didn't have to be marble. I pretty much went with this just, like, on a whim." This is not even remotely true.

"But hey!" he adds. "It's perfectly removable! I could change it out at any time!" (So this doesn't have to be a dealbreaker! is what he means.)

[youbarium]

That, that right there is the taste of regret, laced with guilt, followed by an aftertaste of awkward embarrassment. Carlos hadn't meant for it to come out like that. It sounded like he'd just insulted Cecil, which is the last thing he wants to do.

"No, no, there's no need for that," protests Carlos. "It's, um, really, it's fine. I'd just seen cases before, and I wanted to make sure it wasn't, um, that."

He really isn't sure how to make this situation better, or at least less palm-sweatingly awkward, so he pulls a quick breath and changes the subject.

"Anyway. I wanted to talk to you about...well, you. You're Cecil Palmer, right? What exactly is it that you do?"

[void_whereprohibited]

Ah. Already Cecil can feel his embarrassment abating. His grin begins to return, tugging at the corners of his mouth-- he doesn't want to look quite so excited about getting to talk about himself, but! This is what he came here for! Getting to know each other! Learning each other's ins and outs, and ups and downs, and their places in the arbitrary stratification of society-- just,the little things necessary for the beginning of a friendship. (Just a friendship).

"Well," he says, "As you might know, I am the host of a radio show here in the Capitol-- Welcome to Panem! your source for all you need to know!" Spoken with a slight blah blah blah roll of his eyes, just in case the tagline is familiar. "It's kind of a new thing - I mean, radio, right? It seems a little... old-fashioned for entertainment news! But, hey-- since the start of the Neverending Quell, I think we've all been just a little more inclined to take those kinds of risks."

He's first-date overeager, and he can tell. He forces himself to cut that off right there, before it turns into rambling. He'd hate to ramble. "...Have you heard it? The show, I mean."

[youbarium]

"No," says Carlos, shaking his head. "I didn't know you had a show, or -- I would have. When are you on?"

He wants to compare the two shows from the two Cecils -- perhaps he would record it, play it back, run it through sound-analysis machines. Test it, clinically and impersonally. Could there really be two Cecils, so alike and yet so different?

[void_whereprohibited]

"Every Thursday evening! With the occasional special broadcast earlier in the week." Cecil is delighted - Carlos wants to listen. How amazing will that be, to speak into the microphone next week and know that somewhere out there, the waves of his voice are falling into Carlos' ears?

"I think you'll find it quite useful," he adds, because he doesn't want to look like he's making this all about him. "Since you've only just come back from the Arena, I mean. It can be hard to get used to the quick pace of Capitol life, and having a regularly-scheduled source of information about upcoming events and current trends can be very stabilizing! Or so I'm told." It's something station management's made clear, as the Tributes continue to trickle in from the Arena - his audience is not only the natives of the Capitol anymore.

"...How's that going, by the way?" he adds after a second-- perfectly conversational, as though he were asking about a new job, or a remodeling project, or something equally mundane. "The whole adjusting-to-life-in-a-new-world thing?"

[youbarium]

"Well, I don't really know yet," says Carlos honestly. "It's too early to say, since I was only revived in the Capitol yesterday. The Arena took a lot of getting used to, and now that I'm in the Capitol, it's all completely different. No one's waiting outside this room to kill me, for one thing." He takes his glasses off and polishes them on the front of his -- his shirt, not his lab coat. Carlos is, of course, stunning with them off.

[void_whereprohibited]

Carlos is stunning regardless of whether or not he's wearing his glasses, in Cecil's estimation; but stunning takes many forms, and he takes a second to admire this one as it appears in front of him. With his dark eyes uncovered and his strong profile outlined against the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on every wall, Carlos looks mysterious. Otherworldly. Celestial.

Cecil is a champion at multitasking, though - he has almost no difficulty at all carrying on a conversation and gazing at Carlos with his chin propped on his hand at the same time. "Most likely not," he agrees, because according to the laws of probability you can never be entirely sure that there isn't someone waiting behind any given door to kill you. But he's sure Carlos knows that. Carlos, after all, is a scientist. "I imagine it's easier to appreciate your newfound celebrity, as well! You know, without the distraction of sudden indoor volcanic eruptions, or the wrath of God, or slow starvation."

[youbarium]

"They're certainly less likely here," Carlos agreed, knowing as well as Cecil did that nothing was certain and dangers lurked around every corner. "The celebrity doesn't really matter to me," he went on -- he had been small-town famous in Night Vale, thanks to the other Cecil, and it hadn't mattered to him there, either. Sure, he was recognized on the street, but that had nothing to do with what he had come to Night Vale to do. Sometimes fame made his job easier; sometimes fame made it harder. It was just a fact. "What I really want to do here in the Capitol is science," Carlos said, sliding his glasses back on. "Where I came from, our technology isn't nearly as advanced as it is here. We don't have force-field generators or holographic projectors yet -- our televisions have plastic screens that are dark when they're turned off. I want to find out how it all works, Cecil, and most importantly, I need to know how they brought me back to life."

That was the question that weighed on his mind most.

"Do you know anything about it?"