"I haven't been here in years," Cecil said, casting a fond glance over the bright, open lobby. "I just haven't found the time! So, really, I should be thanking you for the opportunity." Truthfully, Cecil's appreciation of art had always been sort of vague, in the sense that he knew art was important and probably very interesting, but not so much so that he spent any amount of time looking at it himself.

A shame that they would be trailed by Peacekeepers the whole way, but the more private part of this date would come later. That was how they usually arranged it. "I have to admit, it seems difficult to imagine that Night Vale and Panem might have some distant, common dimensional ancestor-- but hey! Very, very few things are impossible." He wasn't quite ready to get so conditional as nothing is impossible. That felt like a lot of commitment.

"...Hello, by the way," he added after a pause, leaning in a little, and reaching with a smile for Carlos' hand. This would be, he thought, a good stopping place for a kiss-- a good dramatic beat. (These were the terms in which he had begun to think about these outings. As though he were reading off a script, and this was just a stage direction.) It would depend on whether Carlos felt like taking off his respirator at this particular, highly public moment.