"A mix tape?" Carlos asks, hands cupping the oddly heavy, bright blue egg. "It, um. Cecil, I think this is a robin's egg." Cecil huffs. "Well, obviously. Folks in Night Vale stopped using actual cassette tapes in the 80s, Carlos. So old fashioned. Here, let me show you." Cecil places his hands over Carlos's, and presses down, cracking the egg. Instantly, the air is full of song. Carlos laughs. "You made me a tape," he says, his voice full of wonder.