chapter 2, way sooner than I thought I'd actually post it xD

just a heads up, this does have description of anxiety attack/overstimulation/ not even sure what to call it tbh. and I tried to describe it as best as I could, for anyone that does not experience meltdowns/overstimulation and maybe help promote understanding in that sense (and while this is mostly just. my experience, and how I react when in the situation esp with not a lot of sleep, I still want to (attempt to anyways) put it in words what it's like/how things look/feel/sound/etc. )

"What do we have?" Carlos was direct, determined to know more.

"Look at these," Niljana pulled a few images up onto the screen. "these were the first things taken from the Desert Bluffs Art Institute."

A surrealist oil painting of a man in profile, with a large Bichon Frise in the background, a sculpture of a severed appendage of the urban legend Cryptid ("Librarians", Carlos heard them called), and a minimalist sketch of a strange, elongated figure emerging from a refrigerator. Weird, and quirky, but what wasn't in this neck of the woods, it seemed?

She turned around, then pointed to a box sitting on the counter. "Guess what was just donated to the Night Vale museum of Art?"

Carlos went to the box, extracting the three items in question. "He… donated them?" he asked, puzzled. "why to Night Vale? Why so close?"

"The plot thickens." Rachelle crossed her arms. "Apparently, this guy is a real Robin-Hood."

Carlos frowned in concentration. "About six months ago, most of the Night Vale museums were bought out by a neighboring pharmaceuticals company: StrexCorp." Niljana typed away at the laptop keyboard. "A lot of their artifacts were taken to be placed in Desert Bluffs museums, but the owners in Night Vale were left holding the bag. A lot of this stuff is family artifacts, from the founding of their town. Historical landmark type stuff."

"So this is retaliation," Carlos mused, "The Voice of Night Vale is taking back what they believe StrexCorp stole." His voice dropped to a mutter. "So that's what he meant by us meeting resistance… The whole town probably supports what they're doing."

"In a distant way, I can't say I disagree." Rachelle shook her head, "This is their town's legacy. Not to mention the fact that all of the documents surrounding the artifacts StrexCorp supposedly seized were," she made quotes with her pointer and middle fingers. "'Destroyed in a fire', and there is no electronic documentation. Word around the town is that they essentially strong-armed the owners into selling."

Carlos narrowed his eyes in thought, twirling his ring. There was still one thing that didn't quite fit. What did The Voice mean by a 'new player'? "Oh, I see you've already been debriefed, then," a voice that sounded entirely too sweet floated through the room. "You must be Agent Ramon."

Carlos turned his head, watching as a man came into the door. He was not fat, nor was he thin. He was neither short, nor tall. Truth be told, he looked very similar to Cecil, save for rounded sunglasses, and scars on either corners of his mouth, making it look like he was constantly smiling. "Detective Kevin R. Free," he said, offering his hand. "I'm a private investigator, I was hired by StrexCorp to recover their missing artifacts."

"Is that so?" Carlos quirked an eyebrow, searching his face for signs of dishonesty. "I'm sorry, detective Free, but we don't work with private I's."

"Aw," Kevin practically pouted, and it sent a nervous shiver down Carlos's spine. "That's not what your Station Management said." His tone took on a dangerous tone even Carlos could hear. "Although, they were a little bit… tied up… when I spoke to them last."

Carlos felt his eyes wander to Rachelle, on the other side of the room, where she stood close to the box of evidence. He locked eyes with her, and prayed she would understand. She seemed to; she blinked a slow blink, nodding her head once, before taking the box and quickly walking in the opposite direction of them. "I was told you recovered a few of the artifacts that were stolen," Thankfully, Kevin didn't seem to notice Rachelle's escape. "I would really, really appreciate it if I could get those back. They are, after all, priceless artifacts."

Carlos tried not to falter with his voice. "Your information was inaccurate, Detective. Nothing has been recovered yet.`" He stated, and Carlos could feel the glare through his sunglasses. "And even if we did find it, it would still be evidence."

"It is stolen property that needs to be recovered." Kevin kept his voice just barely above a growl, "Station management has already-"

"I am not under Station management." Carlos begged his own voice to stay steady. "I am a federal agent, and you are treading dangerous waters, Detective Free."

"Agent Ramon," Kevin lowered his sunglasses, locking his scarred, red eyes with Carlos, "Let me be perfectly clear with you about Night Vale."

Carlos's heart pounded from the nerves. His hold on the dominant force of the conversation was fading fast. Every instinct he had screamed and begged him to look away but for the sake of keeping up the image, he did not. "You do not own Night Vale." Kevin's voice sounded like it was under water. "StrexCorp. Owns. Night Vale."

Kevin kept his eyes on Carlos's as he practically slinked away. "This is not over, Agent Ramon." Kevin promised, smooth voice laced with poison up until he turned around to leave. "I'll be seeing you again, I'm sure."

Carlos breathed a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Hey," Niljana's voice sounded like it was coming through a wall. "Agent Ramon? Carlos, are you alright?"

Carlos nodded his head, eyes aimed at the ground. Speak, for the love of god man, speak! "F-fine." he forced the word out, "F-fine."

His phone rang, and it made his heart jump. He checked the contact. A text from a blocked number. He groaned in frustration. He was too damn tired and stressed out for this right now! He opened it. "The Moonlite All Night Diner is a local hub. You'll find the best information about Strexcorp there."

Carlos shook his head, thumbs tapping irritatedly. "Much obliged. Will follow up."

"I'm going to check around town for more information about this Strexcorp thing." he said, after several deep breaths.

"Sir, are you sure you're alright?" Niljana's voice was clearer, but still muddled.

Carlos nodded, carefully. "I'm just tired," he muttered, "I'm kind of in low power mode for the moment."

He straightened himself, adjusting his atom tie and smoothing wrinkles from his red flannel shirt. "While I'm checking around town, look into StrexCorp's financial information. See what a pharmaceutical company wants with all of these museums." He said, "or if there's someone with enough of a vendetta against StrexCorp."

"The latter is definitely not in short supply." She replied, turning in her chair and back towards the computer.

Carlos scratched the back of his head. This case was proving to be much more of a rabbit hole than he thought.

1:41 PM, Moonlite All Night Diner. The agitated detective-turned-agent groaned audibly as he removed his dark frames from his nose, placing them on the table before him. He twirled his ring in an irritated motion, his whole mind racing uncomfortably. Carlos managed to turn up a whole lot of nothing from the patrons of the diner. It didn't seem as though any of them were even remotely willing to help. It was like the entire town was on the side of The Voice. Add to this coffee so bitter you'd think it had just been through a bad breakup and a layer of smoke rolled over from the other side of the restaurant that made the entire diner smell like cigar smoke and everyone and thing in it look as though they had next to no outlines, and Carlos was beyond ready to leave.

The surroundings of the diner felt as though they were closing in on him, suffocating him slowly. He wanted nothing more than to escape; he wanted to return to the small hotel room the Bureau had put him up in and ignore the rest of this insane town. At least for a little while. But any time his mind went to the thought of escape, it instead focused on how grating the voices were, or how little he cared about the conversation at the next table or the fact that he was listening to every conversation in the building, all at the same time. It was similar to having a nail stuck in his foot, where at that moment in time all he could think about was how much it hurt, not how to make it better. He yawned, rubbing his eyes with both hands. He didn't restrain himself as he rocked gently, hoping he wasn't drawing attention to himself. "Carlos?" a single, quiet voice pierced the fog of voices and hazy smoke. "Agent Ramon?"

Carlos glanced up. There was that Cecil Palmer character again, his outline hazy from the lack of glasses, but backlit by the ambient lights of the diner. Carlos could've sworn he was an angel. An angel in an orange honeycomb shirt, but an angel nonetheless. "Are you okay?"

The agent stared back down at the table, the patterns in the vinl of the tablecloth becoming more and more interesting than any kind of further social interaction. He nodded, trying to form words and ultimately failing as they tumbled out his mouth in something resembling whimpers. He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he took his phone from his pocket. Carlos opened the "Notes" app and tapped out a message with trembling hands. "Fine." he tapped, then hit enter twice. "It's just loud in here."

He finished typing, and turned the phone towards Cecil. He looked puzzled for a moment, but nodded in understanding. Carlos was acutely aware of the sound of rummaging through a bag of some sort. A quiet clunk, shhhf met his ear. Carlos opened one eye, seeing a pair of headphones, dark violet in color and padded with a light lavender color fabric. A second, softer tap and shhhf, and Carlos watched as a cellophane wrapped package of gum came into view. Confused for a moment, he studied the items before him. He heard a few taps from Carlos's phone, still sitting on the table. Then a gentle shhhf, and Carlos read the note below his. "My best friend's son has autism. He doesn't like noise either."

Carlos felt a small weight off his chest. He watched Cecil's slender hands take back the phone for a moment, fingers flying over the keyboard quickly, then turn it back to him. He used one finger to tap the unopened package of gum. "And I've found lavender chewing gum is good for anxiety attacks."

Carlos took a deep breath, bringing his fingertips to his chin with an an open hand, then down and away from his body. "Thank you," it was one of the only signs he knew, but it did its job when words couldn't.

Cecil offered a small smile and nodded, watching as Carlos slipped the headphones over his ears. The relief was almost immediate. The headphones muffled the sound just enough so that he could hear a few noises around him and didn't feel completely vulnerable, but it was at a tolerable level. He sighed quietly, fumbling with the cellophane of the gum and tapping a single square chicklet. Any other time he might've been more cautious to accept gum from a stranger. But, given that it was still in the cellophane and there had been no signs of tampering, he decided to chance it. He hummed quietly in contentment, bringing his knees to his chest and leaning against the wall beside the booth he was in. he snapped his eyes open at the distinctive tap tap of a fingernail on the table next to him. He glanced up. Cecil had typed more into the notes. "If you have the time to wait, the lunch crowd is usually done by 3."

Carlos nodded, signing a second "thank you", and wrapping his dull white trenchcoat around himself.

*
The agent blinked his eyes, moving to adjust his glasses. When his fingers simply grasped air, he remembered he took them off. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd fallen asleep. Carlos glanced around him. The crowd that had accrued for lunch was now down to just a few tables. He slipped his dark frames over his ears, adjusting them so they sat on the bridge of his nose, and blinked again. Cecil sat across from him, a cup of coffee on the table. He typed away at a smallish laptop, occasionally turning towards a composition notebook on the table and marking it with the pencil tucked over his ear. Carlos found himself studying the lines and creases on the reporter's focused face. The way the gentle shadows from the lights accentuated the gentle swoop of his jaw, the way his mouth moved and eyes narrowed at a particularly wordy sentence or poor word choice in need of revision. The way he took his coffee cup without looking, and the deep sips that tilted the mug more than what was probably necessary. Carlos smiled. He quickly stopped himself. He was in Night Vale for work. Not for dating. He shifted his stiff legs and stretched his arms, yawning quietly.

Cecil seemed to notice his change in appearance. He glanced towards Carlos and offered a smile.

Carlos removed the headphones, grateful to find that the noise in the diner had reduced significantly. "Thank you again," he said, passing the headphones over the table.

"Of course," Cecil said, taking them back and putting them in his messenger bag. "Glad I could help."

Upon the realization it was still in his lap, Carlos started to offer him the box of lavender gum. Cecil shook his head, waving one hand dismissively. "Keep it." he said easily, "with how hard you must be working, you probably need it more than I do right now."

"Thank you," Carlos withdrew his hand, putting the gum in the pocket of his white coat. "What time is it?"

"Not sure," Cecil replied, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Not everyone here remembers to change the time for Daylight Savings Time, so half the clocks around here don't work for time."

Carlos glanced down at his phone, clicking the lock screen. 3:24 PM. 3 missed calls. 2 new messages. All from Rachelle and Niljana. He tsk-ed quietly, shaking his head. "Duty calls," he murmured, "Again, thank you so much for that."

Cecil shook his head, keeping up his small smile. "It's no trouble, really." he replied.

Carlos had started to stand to leave when he heard Cecil clear his throat. "Ehm… Agent Ramon?"

Carlos turned back to him. "Would you... "Cecil swallowed, his adam's apple jumping. "Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight?"

The agent felt his heart hammer against his ribs, but then sink in remembering how detrimental it would be to be involved with someone that could possibly be involved in the case. He frowned slightly, looking down at Cecil apologetically. "I'm sorry," he said, "I really don't think it would be a good idea to-"

"Agent Ramon," Cecil said, his tone much more insistent, smile less there, eyes and pointer finger aimed at his notebook, "I really must insist," he punctuated his words with a few taps to the scrawled handwriting.

Carlos aimed his eyes at the writing. "You want information on Strexcorp. Here is not safe. Ears and eyes everywhere."

Carlos prided himself on keeping a professional distance in his work. It wasn't very often that he got attached to people involved in a case, and it was absolutely unheard of to go to someone's house under the pretense of a date. But something inside Carlos told him that it would be ill-advised not to. "Well," he said, "I suppose I could… just this once."

Cecil smiled, and Carlos felt his chest flutter. "6:30?" he suggested.

"6:30 sounds perfect." Carlos replied, smiling back.

Cecil's face flushed a strawberry color as he looked down, writing on a small slip of paper. He tore it carefully, and offered it to him. "My address, and phone number." Cecil winked. "Since I'm sure you wouldn't just give your phone number to any cute reporter that asks."

Carlos cleared his throat, hoping he wasn't blushing as much as he thought he was. "I appreciate that." he replied truthfully, his voice slightly monotone.

Cecil chuckled quietly. "Well then." he said, turning back to his coffee and notebook. "I'll let you go back to work, Agent Ramon."

"Right," Carlos cleared his throat. "See you tonight, then."

Yes, I do headcanon that Roger Harlan has autism. just. some of the stuff in the Thanksgiving episode (hiding in the dark of the cupboard, keeping to a consistent and strict routine when it comes to the walking at night thing, seeming like he has a lot of trouble making/keeping connections even with Earl) just really struck a cord with me

Also Cecil is a good bean. that is all.