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The sun was setting over Old Town Night Vale and Cecil and Carlos were strolling hand in hand along the quaint cobbled streets. Cecil was excitedly explaining every historical landmark they passed, and was just in the middle of a monologue about the significance of the ley lines running under Hartford Avenue when he heard the voice behind him.
“Cecil! Hey, Cecil, over here! What's up!”
He stopped walking and talking instantly, as if he were a recording now paused, then assumed a scowl. Carlos asked, “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” said Cecil. “Let's keep moving.”
Carlos looked around for the source of the voice as he felt himself being dragged away by the arm. It was coming from an unremarkable-looking man, slightly pudgy, with unkempt black hair, wearing a Hawaiian shit and cargo shorts and waving at the duo. He certainly didn't look like a threat, but Cecil said, “Dammit did you just make eye contact? Now he's definitely going to come over here.”
Sure enough, the man lumbered over to them in an awkward half-walk, half-run and started to strike up a conversation. “Cecil, my man, long time no see! Too busy with your new boyfriend to give your old pals a call, eh?” He winked. “This must be that Carlos guy you're always on about. Boy, he is quite a catch!”
“Do I know you?” said Carlos, narrowing his eyes.
Cecil sighed dramatically. “Not in person you don't. Carlos, this is Steve. Steve, Carlos.”
“Steve? As in Carlsberg?” Carlos felt a sinking sensation upon realizing exactly which conversation he had just walked into.
“Aha, my reputation precedes me, doesn't it?” Steve winked again and elbowed Cecil in the ribs. “Good ol' Cecil always talking me up on the radio, eh?” He laughed a harsh, barking laugh.
Carlos looked from Cecil, who was trying to look anywhere but Steve's eyes, and Steve, who was grinning like he'd just heard the funniest thing in the world. He had never met the legendary Steve Carlsberg before and only heard yarns about him framed through Cecil's burning hatred, which he had never gotten up the courage to question. He had assumed the animosity was mutual, but apparently not. Unsure how to proceed, he coughed and asked, “So how do you know Cecil?”
Steve's eyes lit up. “Oh we go way back, bro! We were both in Sigma Chi Pi in college. Man, remember when we stole the Desert Bluffs mascot? Remember Dean Montoya's face the next day? Claaaaassic.” More of the roaring laughs. His speech was loud and booming and had the quality of a child who had not yet learned to use his indoor voice. It was clear he meant only to be friendly, and yet Carlos could immediately see where Cecil was coming from. It was like Carlsberg had an aura surrounding him that spread irritation into all that he touched.
Cecil's left eye was involuntarily twitching at this point and he held a hand up to Steve's mouth. “Stop talking, Carlsberg. You have thoroughly ruined my evening with your inane blather and hideous fashion sense.” Carlos glanced at Cecil, who was wearing his favourite red-and-pink checkered suit, but said nothing.
In response, Steve slapped Cecil on the back and laughed once more. “That's my boy! Such a kidder. See Carlos, we're always ribbing each other like that. You gotta keep an eye on this one. Well, it's been great to meet you,” he said, extending his hand, “but I wouldn't want to hold you two lovebirds up. See you at the next PTA meeting, maybe?”
“Ugh, maybe, I don't know what my schedule is like,” said Cecil. “Oh, and next time just get Dunkin Donuts instead of subjecting us to your awful baking.” The two “friends” shook hands and Steve wandered off toward one of the many antique shops dotting the avenue.
Carlos watched him go, trying to puzzle out the nature of their relationship. He turned back to Cecil, whose expression was still pure disdain. “So.... you guys are actually close? It's all just a big running joke?”
“No,” said Cecil emphatically. “He is a moron and I despise him. He's just too oblivious to understand that.”
“Well, that's-” Carlos was going to say it was weird, but honestly, on the list of weird things about Cecil this situation didn't even crack the top twenty. “I think I get it though. Just being around him made me feel vaguely exasperated. He's kind of naturally obnoxious. Tacky dresser, too.”
“Hey, that's uncalled for!” said Cecil, as if the insult had been directed at him. “He may be an idiot, but he's my idiot. You haven't earned the right to talk about him like that.”
“Oh, but I- what? I'm... sorry?” said Carlos. Apologizing seemed like the safest action, although he was quite lost as to what he was apologizing for.
“Yeah, you better be. Perhaps you can salvage this date by buying me an ice cream from the Bloodstone Creamery?” Cecil grinned and gave Carlos a peck on the cheek. Carlos smiled back. The more time he spent with Cecil, the less he understood, he thought, but he loved every second of it.