Mr. Scientist (Cecilos)

Lab Tests

We arrive at my apartment at what looks like noon but it's actually 8:00 PM. I invite Cecil in and offer him a drink, and he accepts.
"Do you drink Jack? Or would you prefer something else?"
"Jack is an asshole! I never want to talk to him again." Cecil shouts. I chuckle.
"No, Cecil. Jack Daniels. It's whiskey." I explain and hand him a shot glass full of it. He hesitantly takes the shot, and gives me an approving face.
I laugh. "It's a bit too sweet for me," I say. "If it wasn't Dos Equis, then it'd be tequila. Any kind would do, just not the cheap kind."
"Say, for a scientist you sure do have a great taste in drinks." Cecil leans back on the back of the sofa that faces the kitchen. "Isn't the toxins in it supposed to be bad?"
"Psh. Of course! But after long stressful days, or just good days I'd like to end better, I take a cup of whatever is available and drink up." I raise a tequila shot to Cecil and drink it. I turn to my pantry where I keep my drinks. Without facing him I raise up a bottle of moscato and offer him a glass.
"No, sorry, I'm not into moscato, but thank you though." He denies. I pour myself a glass with "I'd pause science so this drink wouldn't be so bad for me to consume"
He laughs. His laugh is like a warm buttery heaven that all you want to do is sink in, just like his voice in general. I turn around with a wine glass full of Cupcake Moscato and take a sip. "Thanks for having me over, Carlos," Cecil thanks me as he takes another wine cup and pours it up halfway with Jack.
"No problem," I stare at the whiskey rushing from the bottle opening into the glass. "It's nice to have someone..special around since I moved. I mainly took this investigation because I had nothing to look forward to when I got home from work back then." I watched Cecil's face turn red.
"Someone...s-special?" He asks looking down at his glass.
"Yeah, I mean we just met but you seem like someone I'd like to spend more time with. Y'know?" I try to stay calm but in my head, words rush around like flies buzzing. What if he doesn't like me? What if he isn't that type of person? Does he only see me in that way? Am I just acting foolish? Is it Night Vale's oddities getting to me?
After moments of suspenseful, awkward silence, he looks up. His eyes gleam a bright neon purple and turn to a turquoise. I don't even question. His eyes are beautiful in any shade. "I'd like to spend more time with you too, Mr. Scientist." I smile and the butterflies in my stomach, flies buzzing in my head, and the throw-up coming up my throat all just go away. Though I'm so used to children coming up to me saying "Hello, Mr. Carlos!" Or "Hey, Mr. Scientist!" from the school's I visited on Career Day, I don't like how he says it. I feel like my name would be a better fit for his mouth. Mr. Scientist just seems like something a kid with falling out teeth and grass stains on their knees would say. So I politely correct him.
"Cecil, I much prefer my first name, thank you," he chuckles softly.
"Sorry, Carlos, it's just nicknames I'm used to using, especially on broadcasts." I nod. I then look down at his untouched glass of whiskey.
"Would you like some Coke or something to mix with that?" I suggest. He shakes his head and holds up a palm with a tattoo of an eye on it.
"No no," he raises it up to his lips and sips slowly. "I like it strong and raw." I chuckle. "Oh get your mind out of the gutter, even though it's true."
He has the same sense of humor as I do. Great. We'll get along just fine.