Without much sleep, one's emotions are either exaggerated or hardly noticeable. Anger was either a passive groan or a full outburst, and nothing in between.
Carlos would know this better than anyone.
Especially when he found himself storming into his lab, using both hands to aggressively swipe all of the papers, pens, and pencils (illegal or not) off of his desk, scattering them onto the floor. The writing utensils clacked loudly onto the tile; the papers slowly drifted in the air before landing quietly as well. Without stopping his quick stride across the lab, he passed the now empty desk, to the lab table adjacent to it, slumping into a stool, propping his elbows on the table, and burying his face in his hands. Today had gone just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that... Which was why he felt so furious. The darker skinned man was coming up with more questions than answers for this cursed place. Calling the town of Night Vale a mystery would be an enormous understatement. There was no way to describe the town. Demonic? No. Maybe. He couldn't tell. It had its ups and downs, though due to the recent 9.8 earthquake that the town somehow saw no damage from, he decided that there were more downs than ups. In fact, the town was sinking, metaphorically, though it wouldn't surprise him if the town was literally sinking, too. And he was going down with it- the coffee wasn't going to keep him running much longer.
Pulling away thick-glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy sigh.
This was not what he had expected when he and his colleagues arrived at Night Vale.
The dog park, the hooded figures- he hadn't expected the oppressive Council, the Street Cleaners that sent the townspeople running. He hadn't expected the psychotic seismic-activity, the glowing clouds that rained animal carcasses onto townsfolk, and he most certainly hadn't expected the somewhat obsessive, yet still charming older man who gushed over him on the radio for the entire town to hear.
His mind reeled back to reality- not really though, considering he was, in fact, in Night Vale of all places- and he placed his glasses back.
"Rough day?" the soft, yet confident voice seemed close. Carlos jumped- more than usual- and turned to face the lab behind him. Standing mostly upright in the doorway was the lean and tall figure of Cecil. But he had sounded so close? Carlos waved it off- he didn't want to care right now. Carlos' reaction must have frightened Cecil as well because his pale face seemed concerned.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine." Carlos waved a hand absently before turning back to face the table, running a hand through curly, dark hair, much to Cecil's delight. "What do you need?" On most days, the scientist would never come off so short. But this didn't feel like most days. He took a quick glance at his watch. "Why aren't you in your studio? Show isn't over yet, is it?"
Cecil had already began to step over to the scientist, though he stopped when he saw the scattered papers, bending down to pick them up carefully, glancing at each sheet, pretending to understand the figures, equations, and long, drawn-out definitions that were scrawled in pencil on each.
"The Weather's being read right now." The reporter replied finally, placing the papers on the table. He didn't dare touch the writing utensils, however- for obvious reasons. "I have a brief, four minute break."
Carlos merely hummed a response.
He lifted up another stool that had been pushed to the side (Cecil knew that dragging it lazily across the tile would make the other man grind his teeth and he didn't want that) and set it carefully next to Carlos, leaving three or four inches between them. After sitting comfortably, Cecil faced Carlos - whose head was now cradled in his calloused left hand, tilted slightly to the side- and displayed a goofy, tight lipped grin.
But it was short lived.
"Carlos!" He suddenly gasped.
"Hm..?"
"You look terrible!"
"Thanks."
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," the grin had disappeared, and now Cecil's soft, fair skinned face wore a very concerned look. He reached out, and before Carlos could move away or protest, Cecil took hold, gently, of the man's chin. And though Carlos knew the gesture was not at all a romantic one, his cheeks flared red nonetheless.
"What?" He asked again through gritted teeth. Cecil was closer now, turning Carlos' face to the left, then right, then left again, before letting out a tut.
"When was the last time you slept?" The reporters voice was a disappointed one. Carlos turned the question over in his mind, eyes looking up.
"I... I don't remember." He finally muttered. Cecil sighed, releasing his grasp on the other. Carlos inwardly let out a sigh of relief.
"Well, that just won't do. It's late- you should go home."
"I have work to do." Carlos retorted.
"You can do that in the morning." Cecil pushed himself out of the stool, before taking Carlos' wrists and tugging him away from his own seat. As if the unkempt scientist couldn't do that on is own.
"That's under the assumption I'll be here tomorrow..." The comment was nearly a whisper, a mutter, but Cecil heard it. And took it oddly seriously. He stopped, making Carlos come an abrupt, almost stumbling stop as well.
"Don't say that." The blonde's brows knitted and his eyes were no longer their usual kind, soft hue. They looked... Stern. Silence lapsed briefly before Carlos exhaled and said, "I was kidding. As if anything would actually happen to me."
Both knew that muttering those words in a town like Night Vale was like going for a swim and saying you wouldn't get wet. But Cecil accepted it anyway. The stern look slowly fading, he continued to tug the other out of the lab, down the hall...
And out the main entrance to the parking lot, where Cecil kindly (yet quickly, as the weather was nearing the end), led Carlos to his car, which was conveniently parked up front.
"Go home, watch for pedestrians, dogs-"
"-Hooded figures, yeah, I know, I know." Carlos shook his head, biting back a light smile. Cecil had no problem with revealing one.
"Drive safe." He added right as Carlos was climbing into his car. Carlos paused, then slammed the car door shut. Waiting a moment to watch the car leave the radio-stations parking lot, Cecil spun on his heel, and darted up the stone steps of the building, and rushed to his studio, reaching the microphone just as the song ended.
And just as Carlos flipped on the radio.