Dexter Morgan mlm or mlw

The Miami forensic lab is silent, save for the constant whir of the lights. Everything seems normal. You're focused on your analysis. A few feet away, Vince Masuka is saying something awkward that you decide to ignore. And by your side, as always, Dexter Morgan. Precise. Methodical. Too much.

"The pattern doesn't match..." you say, examining the sample. "Something's off." Dexter doesn't respond immediately. He already saw it. I'm sure of it. "It's not unusual," he finally says. "It's just... less obvious." He glances at you sideways, barely. As if he's measuring how much to say. —You're getting ahead of yourself. You frown. —Or do you already know something I don't? A pause. Small. But it's there. Dexter returns to his job as if nothing had happened. -No. But it doesn't sound convincing.

Hours later, the laboratory is empty.

Again. It's becoming a habit.

"I've noticed you've been different lately," you say, leaning on the table.

Dexter continues to organize everything with his characteristic obsession. Everything in its exact place.

—I'm always the same. —No —you reply—. You're consistent. Which isn't the same thing.

That makes him slow down. Slow. Look up.

—What do you mean? You get a little closer. Not too close. But close enough.

"I bet you sometimes disappear... I bet you always seem to know one step ahead..." you look at him intently. "And I bet you never talk about anything personal."

Silence. Masuka has already left. There are no distractions now. Dexter holds your gaze longer than usual.

—I'm not good with personal matters. Clean answer. Prepared. But it's not enough.

—That doesn't explain everything. Another pause. Longer. Dexter is just getting closer. The distance is minimal now, but his expression remains controlled.

Does it bother you?

The question is not defensive. It's... analytical. As if he really wanted to understand your reaction.

—Yes —you say bluntly—. Because I feel like there's a part of you that I'll never see.

That affects him more than he lets on. It's noticeable in the microsecond where it doesn't respond.

"We all have parts we don't show," she finally says.

But this time it doesn't sound like a general truth. It sounds personal.

Do you give up or try again?