Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.

Gita Lenz

“Do you have any coffee?” Carlos asked. His family had all been tea drinkers, with himself the only exception, so he asked every time just in case. “If not, water is fine. I’m going to go freshen up, it was weirdly humid in that restaurant, don’t you think? I wonder what caused that, maybe I’ll go back some time and have a see…”  He already knew where the bathroom was, but waited to be told. Starting again, pretending there was stuff he didn’t know.

       ❝Oh, um, yes, I'll go ahead and put some on,❞ Cecil answered, touching his fingertips together, ❝Are you OK with cayenne, I hope? Oh, and the bathroom’s through my bedroom, just, just through that door.❞

Carlos almost laughed, because it seemed so silly to get this invitation when he’s already entered this home before. What he actually said though was;

“Yes, I’d love to.” And stepped into the building as though it were his first time. He was already within reach of a couple of the cameras and, coughing to hide embarrassment, detached them from their hiding places. They were small enough to fit in his lab coat pocket.

       If Cecil noticed (and likely he did, given the number of eyes that he had, and the knack for seeing things he shouldn’t), he gave no indication. Little could make him feel more awkward than he already did; he’d rather move on from it without comment if he possibly could. They were supposed to be starting over, after all.