Carlos's arms fly up to cover his head, his ears. He tucks into a crouch, falling back against the wall again, letting it take his weight. The words echo in his head, and though Carlos is terrified, he understands.

The Capitol is a terrible place. In Night Vale, no one bothered to hide the municipal corruption: everyone understood that the government was what it was, and there were more immediately deadly things to be afraid of. But here -- here, it was like biting into a cupcake and finding spiders. Deceptive. Deadly. Disappointing. The spiders had no right to be there.

But Carlos can hide that he knows about the spiders. They're under surveillance. Carlos knows what it's like to be under surveillance. He won't talk. He doesn't know that he can hold up under torture, though. Carlos has never before been tortured. He wouldn't want to talk, and he would certainly try, but it seemed really easy to say 'I could keep a secret even if I were being tortured' but hard to actually do it. There is uncertainty in his mind.