capeandcowllogs | ( open like a box of donuts )

WHO: Dexter Morgan |

dextirpate and YOU.
WHERE: HARDWARE STORE. Or outside, before/after he gets on with his shopping. You decide!
WHEN: Today, why not.
WARNINGS: TBA
SUMMARY: Inner monologues give way to discovering the Death Count power. TIME TO GO SHOPPING. Feel free to have your character recognize from the MAC or Police Force, whateva whateva.
FORMAT: Empty... like him (by which I mean whatever you prefer)

( BLABLABLA JUST SKIP THIS PART )
I felt it. When I first stepped into that cold, metal room... I knew something was over. My resources, my plans and files, the game with the Ice Truck Killer. Those voices in the network were helpful, but none of them knew what I really needed. Directions to your brand new single room apartment can only give you so much guidance.

And Harry's code never mentioned anything about interdimensional travel.

It's amazing how time flies when you're trying to figure out what to do with your life.

It's been over a month since he's been here. He's been lost and wondering what to do with himself, with the Dark Passenger. He's been quiet, that one, something Dexter hasn't quite decided whether he should be thankful for or worried about, reminded constantly that he's in there somewhere, even if only because the machine somehow captured him and carved his name into the dog tag carefully tucked away in his pocket.

He isn't sure how it happened. He was lost in his thoughts as he walked down the street, weighing the pros and cons of trying to figure out where his purpose went as long as he had a job. The spell was broken when he finally paid attention to one of the many strangers on the street, a man in his forties wearing his proudly slicked back hair. Pink shirt, thin glasses and an air of dignity in his pressed lips and tipped chin. Eyebrows creased as he looked for something in his very expensive cellphone. Dexter was focused on something else entirely, sitting right above the man's head.

There it is. That number.

It was telling him something. Was he the only one who could see it? He definitely was the only stranger on the street staring at him with something short of a gawk. He stopped and turned quietly to watch him walk away in the company of his very expensive and demanding phone. Something told him that was what he had been looking for. Not just the number, but what it represented.

Maybe the Dark Passenger didn't leave him after all. He just went out for a walk and waited for him to catch up.

How could he say no?

⚫

OKAY YOU CAN READ THIS INSTEAD

August 19th. It's been a week since he followed that man and grabbed his wrist. Something unexpected happened, and yet... something in him almost knew it was coming. He saw the faces of two young girls, blond with blue eyes. Tied down, probably screaming. It didn't take a genius to understand what was happening -- what had happened. The number above the man's head told a story that he had seen in quick flashes. It was invigorating. He felt... relieved. Satisfied.

Yes, a lot was taken away from him, but something was given in return.

He can see killers. He can see what they've done without having to dig through files and photographs and carefully covered up bureaucracy.

Of course there still has to be some investigation involved. That's why he finally bit the bullet and signed up to be in forensics after multiple invitations...

But for now, it's time to redecorate.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There are things that can be deduced about the girl examining the wall dedicated to various kinds of rope. She's small enough to be in the eleven-thirteen year old range; fair skinned; blind, if the walking cane and the way she touches every rope on display without looking at them are any indication. And then there are those candy-cane horns on her head, which could be either a part of a silly costume or a sign of an imPort.

Her glasses are red, but they're not as opaque as they appear--her eyes just happen to be the exact same color.

All in all, she's just a kid in a hardware store. Nothing too exciting. She does seem to be getting pretty frustrated with the store's selection, though, considering the way she keeps going back and forth between the various ropes on display and frowning.

Dexter can be very focused and observant, yes, but his attention on the outside world is practically muted when he dives into his own thoughts, either to imagine how his plans with play out or the consequences they will have, should anyone notice one less depraved serial killer walking among them.

Blond girls. Really. That's isn't even imaginative. But it's okay to start small, that's how it should be done. He's still getting the hang of things, a barely month-old imPort in a sea of year-long veterans.

He passes by Terezi's aisle on his way to gather a significantly smaller supply of shrink wrap than his average (tarting small, remember?). While thirteen year old girls are usually well out of his range of interests -- unless he has to impress his girlfriend (Rita -- he completely forgot about her until now. Some boyfriend he is.) -- her cane does manage to catch a glimpse of his consideration. Needless to say the glance turns into a double-take and stare at the horns and glasses, turning his head and shoulders to perpetuate a blatant observation.

No numbers dancing above her, though. Not until he looks for them.

"This is stupid," she can be heard to mutter irritably. All she wants is some good rope to tie up a jerk and interrogate him, and maybe also some rope that is suitable for tying nooses.

Apparently they just don't make it here like they do on Alternia.

She's oblivious to his stare, of course, and in fact is oblivious to his presence at all. She's gone from examining her options by touch to pulling them close to her face so she can sniff at them, which no doubt looks bizarre. It's a good thing that Terezi has never cared about how she looks.

Dexter is still standing there, hands in his pockets, brows creased with varying levels of intrigue and bemusement. A supposedly blind young girl with horns sniffing away at ropes... Not something you see every day, alternate dimension or not.

Safe to say that once he realizes he's actually come to a stop to observe her, he figures he might as well satisfy his curiosity. Take a chance, Dexter, who knows when you'll have it again. It's a whole new world filled with old and new possibilities.

The tone is casual, spoken out loud to show no ulterior motives, taking his time with a perfectly friendly approach.

"Need any help?"

Terezi lets the rope be for now to turn to face Dexter, at least in a vague sense--she's not looking directly at him. She simply assumes that he's an employee, since he's offering assistance.

"Is this all you've got?" She waves her cane at the wall of ropes and such, still looking faintly irritated.

He takes a moment to reply.

"I think so, but I'd be happy to ask." Hands are still in his pockets, even when he's close enough to pick up the ropes and inspect them himself. He'd rather figure her out instead. "What's it for?"

She grins, baring her teeth in the process. This is normal for her.

"I'm gonna make a rope swing, heheh!" And that is true in the most technical of senses.

The closer he gets, the better she can smell him, and she doesn't hide the way she sniffs at him like an animal trying to get a scent.

Dexter has no problem in properly frowning at that, calm but apparently bemused nonetheless. What a strange creature you are, Terezi.

"... What are you doing?"

"Wow, you're slow! I'm trying to shop."

And she's purposefully obtuse too. What a charming young lady.

( open like a box of donuts )

INSIDE DA STORE welp this turned into a tl;dr on me

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