badcompany_muse June
[Diligence]
He neatly polishes off the Cuban sandwich on his plate. Deb is prattling on about something and Dexter is ignoring her with a diligence few have mastered. He applies this same sort of diligence in every aspect of his life. It is what drives him through his days. It is only with diligence that he can perform his job, dissecting blood spatter and turning it into physics and statics that can be used to catch criminals. And it is this same diligence that keeps him from living the rest of his days in a prison cell or a padded room.
“Dex? You alright? You seem kinda out of it,” Deb states as she pokes at her own sandwich. She’s a good eater but few hold a candle to Dexter.
“Right as rain,” Dexter tells her with a benign smile even though both he and Deb are well aware Dexter isn’t as right as rain, or as right as anything else. “However, if you’re not going to eat that,” he starts to reach over to nab part of her sandwich and she pulls her plate away with the ferocity of a lioness.
“Back off, Morgan.”
Dexter lets out a little chuckle that seems to be made of plasterboard and paste as he holds his hands up in a surrender position. “Hurry up and finish. Rita wants me to take you by the florist. For some reason she thinks because you’re female, you’ll instinctively know which flowers look best.”
Deb gives him a look that says he’s insane and he just shrugs. “I’m just doing what Rita asks me to.”
Because he applies diligence to his relationship with Rita as well, at least as much as is possible.
He neatly polishes off the Cuban sandwich on his plate. Deb is prattling on about something and Dexter is ignoring her with a diligence few have mastered. He applies this same sort of diligence in every aspect of his life. It is what drives him through his days. It is only with diligence that he can perform his job, dissecting blood spatter and turning it into physics and statics that can be used to catch criminals. And it is this same diligence that keeps him from living the rest of his days in a prison cell or a padded room.
“Dex? You alright? You seem kinda out of it,” Deb states as she pokes at her own sandwich. She’s a good eater but few hold a candle to Dexter.
“Right as rain,” Dexter tells her with a benign smile even though both he and Deb are well aware Dexter isn’t as right as rain, or as right as anything else. “However, if you’re not going to eat that,” he starts to reach over to nab part of her sandwich and she pulls her plate away with the ferocity of a lioness.
“Back off, Morgan.”
Dexter lets out a little chuckle that seems to be made of plasterboard and paste as he holds his hands up in a surrender position. “Hurry up and finish. Rita wants me to take you by the florist. For some reason she thinks because you’re female, you’ll instinctively know which flowers look best.”
Deb gives him a look that says he’s insane and he just shrugs. “I’m just doing what Rita asks me to.”
Because he applies diligence to his relationship with Rita as well, at least as much as is possible.