Just a likkle one. Need to introduce more characters and storyline so y'all can see where this is headed [= Hope you're enjoying so far.
Dexter watches the people as they pick out their chosen pastries from his box. He watches as they smile at him, ask how he and Harrison are, and he replies as cheerily as he deems normal. People ask about Harrison, and he replies in the positive, offering tid bits of his latest development milestones as any normal parent would. Masuka dishes out yet another sleazy joke as he takes his choice donut, which Dexter rewards with a stiff nod of the head and something resembling a throaty chuckle. Angel informs Dexter that he needs his report on the Allen Case by lunch, then he thanks him for his donut and invites him out for drinks and strippers. He seems to think that now Rita is gone, Dexter needs to find some sort of replacement for her. Apparently his idea of a replacement involves scantily clad, large breasted women grinding themselves on a man's lap, but Dexter fails to see the appeal in it. He weasels out of it with the excuse of Harrison's Nanny having a date. Angel accepts it with a nod and a disappointed smile, that doesn't quite reach his eyes and Dexter thinks if he had feelings, he might feel guilty right about now, maybe sorry for Angel. Still. He has work to do, and Deb is strutting up to him, snatching a donut and some manner of information is coming out of her mouth between the variety of profanities, and Dexter must bring himself out of Dexter Land and back in to the real world.
"... The fuckin' heart has been ripped out, Dex. I mean what kind of fuckin' sick, psychopathic motherfucker does that?"
Dexter nods stiffly, managing to string together enough to work out that there is a new case – possibly serial killer – in town.
One who wants to make a show of himself.
"I don't know, Deb. There are some messed up people in this world." I prefer to be tidy and secretive about my work.
"Pack up," Deb applies a manly slap to Dexter's arm before she takes center stage in the room and shouts out to find out who has been chosen to accompany her to the latest crime scene. "Dex, you're with me."
Great.
Dexter has had that sneaking suspicion Deb has wanted to have some alone time with him for some time, and it probably has something to do with his chosen path of celibacy since losing Rita.
I'll give her the 'Different people deal with grief in different ways' speech, and add something about not feeling ready to ruin the sanctity of my marriage. She's female. That's probably the type of thing she wants to hear.
The crime scene is an exciting sight for Dexter. He hovers around the body, covering up his awed staring with the pretence of taking numerous photos of the body and the surrounding blood spatter and anything else he deems relevant. The chest of the body – a man of maybe about 30, pity for a life to be cut short, but maybe he deserved it – looks literally as if it has been clawed open, and there is a void where the heart should be, and the internal organs around it look like they've taken a fair amount of damage too.
I don't see the appeal in mindless violence. I prefer to take my time and make it special. It's kind of like an art. This, I suppose, could be compared to a killer's version of Jackson Pollock. I've never been much of a fan.
Peals of delighted laughter snap Dexter out of his daydream, and he looks up to see his sister, head tossed back and her hand laid on the arm of a built, good looking man dressed in a suit - one of the men he had seen at the club the night he had been after Carlos Mantio - he's watching her reaction to him, quiet and confident, obviously quite talented at wooing the ladies. Something about him sets Dexter's senses on edge, and he finds himself approaching the two of them, barely noticing the giant man beast passing him. Protective big brother instincts kicking in, Dexter plasters on his I'm-being-polite-but-don't-fuck-with-me face and sticks out a hand to the good looking, short haired man flirting with Deb. "Dexter Morgan," He indicates Deb, "Her older brother. Can I help you?"
The built – but not much bigger than me – man takes his hand confidently and pumps it, his other hand darting in to the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and he pulls out an FBI badge. "Agent Young, with the FBI,"
That's a lie. I'm practised in the art of covering up the truth. "Nice to meet you. What's the FBI's interest in this case?"
"There have been a couple of similar cases elsewhere, we're just following up,"
Dexter nods, but he isn't convinced. Something isn't right about this man, and he's just made it his personal mission to figure out what it is. This seems like the right moment to bid farewell and move on, so he does so, only turning to bump straight in to the man monster partner – okay, he's a lot bigger than me – of 'Agent Young' There is something in his eyes that sets Dexter on edge. It's as if there's a good person in there, a pure person, but there's something bridled, hidden behind those eyes, deep, deep down. It could be something to do with the job, but Dexter doubts it. The giant offers out his hand, his eyes darting to his partner in a discreet, but hugely telling manner, and he introduces himself as "Agent Angus,"
"Dexter Morgan. Blood spatter analyst," Dexter sees something spark behind the eyes of both men and they share a look again.
"Have you noticed anything... unusual," Agent Angus seems to struggle over the word, as if it has some underlying meaning – are they maybe guilty of something?
Dexter heaves in a deep breath, looking away pointedly, trying to appear casual as he shrugs and blows out the breath of air. "Just someone getting a bit overexcited with some kind of home-made weapon."
"Home made...?" Clearly Agent Angus is looking for some sort of elaboration, and he seems more than willing to follow Dexter back to the body again.
Dexter peers back over his shoulder at Agent Young, who is again leaning a bit to close to Deb.
Masuka is hunkered down over the body, rubber gloves on as he gently pries fabric away from the fatal chest wound. "It looks literally like something has torn its way in there." He fingers what looks suspiciously like claw marks on the chest above the gaping hole, then matches his own fingers up with the five deep gauges. "It's definitely human,"
Agent Young has appeared behind his partner, and they share another one of those knowledgeable glances with one another, and Dexter's mind is made up that there is more to those two than meets the eye.
"Some kind of home made glove weapon or maybe some wicked sharp false nails," Masuka offers cluelessly.
Agent Young crouches down by the body, pulling on a pair of his own rubber gloves that he appears to have gotten out of thin air, and he slips the sleeve of the deceased man up to reveal a nasty looking bite. It's done a little to surely, and again Dexter's senses are set to red alert.
"Is that a dog bite?"
Agent Young stiffens and appears to struggle answering the question, as if the wrong answer could incriminate. "I don't think so," He stands back up again, pulling off the rubber gloves and looks at his partner. "When will the autopsy report be ready?"
Masuka gets to his feet and removes his rubber gloves, puffing himself up ready to reply.
"Who are you?" LaGuerta's voice pipes up loudly, accompanied by the clacking of her expensive heels as she approaches the crowd of men, an air of self assuredness oozing from her as she moves, and she stops a few feet short of the agents, clearly eyeing them up. Whether it's through curiosity or interest isn't exactly clear, but both men appear to shrink away nonetheless.
"Agents Young and Angus," Agent Young answers respectfully, and they both flash their badges. "We were just on our way." Before LaGuerta gets a chance to grill them any more, they turn and stalk off in unison, another too-practised move that Dexter just can't ignore.
"Who the fuck knew the FBI were hiring sexy ass fuckers these days," Deb has appeared by Dexter's side whilst he's been staring down the two 'Agents'.
"Maybe it's in the job description," Dexter suggests in his awkward monotone. He's lost sight of the two men, but he continues to stare for the sake of it anyway.