Dexter's been holed up in his room for the past few days, coming down only to ask the bar for some peculiar things a bit at a time before heading back up. A new shirt, for one. Books you can't find on Earth. A DNA kit, a screwdriver, and a giant carton of red licorice, among other things
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"Hi, Suzi. How's it going?"
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"By the way, you seem different from the last time I saw you. You're not speaking in questions all the time."
A little blunt, but that's Dexter for you.
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"How's Whistler doing? And your jewelry business?"
He doesn't actually care about Whistler, but it's the polite thing to ask, so he asks. It's one of those things that confused him as a child - why do you ask after the wellbeing of someone you don't know (and therefore don't actually care about)? He still doesn't really know the answer, but he does know it's a social norm, and follows it.
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Which reminds her, and she reaches into the bag she's started carrying finished commissions around in, "Is this what you wanted?" The necklace is just as they talked about.
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"Trying to add more?" He didn't quite get that last bit.
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Her tab is always in the black.
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