Chapter Text
Despite what he may have said on air, Cecil knows this is not a date. Which is why he is clearly and obviously dressed for work, and if he has taken special care today in knotting his tie; if he spent the better part of the morning polishing his shoes, well. That’s just professional pride.
In order to show his dedication to the cause of science, he’s even conducted a bit of research. On the table in front of him lay the three wristwatches he has received to mark various years of service in community radio. He glances at the three watch faces, which all show different times. No matter. Carlos said they would meet in the afternoon, and since the sun is no longer directly overhead and the cafe has switched over to their lunch menu, it must be after noon.
He will wait.
Three cups of coffee later, he is beginning to feel nervous. No - concerned. No… nervous. It’s not the caffeine, which simply serves to keep him in metaphysical stasis. It’s just that the longer he sits, the more certain he is that he’s going to say something incredibly foolish as soon as Carlos arrives. “Neat!” he will blurt - or something equally inane - and the non-date will be over before it begins. Will that make it an actual date, he thinks, pondering the double negative?
He feels a hollow stare boring into the side of his face, and turns to see the barista pointedly glowering at his fingernails, which he has been tapping rapidly against the table. “Sorry,” he calls, with a conciliatory smile. It never pays to cross a barista.
When the room is in shadow and the barista is gathering stale barley muffins from the pastry case (later to be thrown into the petting zoo under cover of darkness), Cecil slowly pushes back his chair and gathers up the watches. He orders one more cup of coffee to go - black, with sugar and cream on the side.
At the lab out near Big Rico’s, he stands in the darkness outside the window and watches the single man who remains inside, still doing science at this hour. Carlos is bent over an intricate piece of equipment, fiddling with some knobs on the side. Cecil’s breath catches as the scientist reaches up to push his unruly hair out of his face, tying it back with a rubber band he pulls from his pocket.
Carefully setting the coffee, sugar, cream, and all three watches on the step, Cecil knocks softly on the door, then hops back into his car and drives away before his silly gesture can be discovered.