Work Text:
Carlos takes a deep breath and readies himself to try and explain about yet another weird happenstances in this strange, strange town. He raises his eyes from his clipboard, still trying to wrap his head around these seismic oddities, and his eyes automatically scan the crowd. It was bigger than he wanted it to be, but far smaller than he thought it would be. It consisted only of the towns sole radio host, Cecil, a newspaper reporter, the mayor and someone who could only guess was of the Sheriff's secret police.
His eyes connect with Cecil, a smile spreading over the man's handsome face, and Carlos can already feel the panic starting to smother him. Carlos' body tingles with the spreading, his eyes widen as his mouth flaps open and words barely figure their way out. He's a stuttering mess, his face heating up, as he tries to remember how sentences work. Cecil's face is too distracting.
He sighs, shutting his eyes, attempting at somehow blocking out Cecil's over-expressive face and hoping that would help. He shakes his head, sad and slow. He had to just try and not look at Cecil, concentrating on the science and not the fact that Cecil's eyes are doing that thing again. He was so normal for such a not normal town and it bothered Carlos in a strong, but not wholly unpleasant way.
Cecil's smooth voice breaks through his barriers, echoing inside his head and past his shut eyes. “Where did you get your shirt? It fits you so well.” Carlos' eyes drag open. He meets Cecil's hopeful, adoring gaze and once again is overwhelmed by it.
He opens his mouth to respond, but has no idea how to. Was there any scientific protocol for such a thing? He would have to consult his research for an answer, but he was pretty sure there wasn't one. He darts his gaze away, concentrating it on anything else, as he begins to go into scientific depth at how to respond to a compliment.
He remembers the reason he's here and looks back to the mayor. He ducks his head, wishing his fringe could still fall in front of his eyes, and darts of. He waves his clipboard and yells a random excuse about chart consulting and computer modules or something. As if he could figure something like this out, why the hell does anything happen and not happen in this town? He needs to do some more research and find out more about Cecil. Maybe, he should phone him later, for personal reasons, and ask.
