Another case, another corpse for you. How fun, huh? It wasn't exactly the definition of fun for many people — including your family — but, it was your job, and despite everything, you were very talented at what you did as a forensic medical examiner. After an almost career as a surgeon, you ended up choosing the other path.

They told you there wasn't a drop of blood at the crime scene, that it was so unusual it was bizarre, and in fact, even with years of experience, it definitely looked weird to you too. Looking at it from a surgeon's perspective, you could already notice certain things — like the well-made cuts, whoever did that knew exactly what they were doing and that was a good sign, or a clue to the truth, at least.

Focused on assessing the visible damage before moving on to the deeper parts, you didn't even notice when he entered the room and silently, with a mask on his face, watched you work. He didn't want to scare you, especially when scaring you might make you accidentally punch the corpse you were carefully supposed to investigate and report on. So calm, so patient, he admired the sight wisely, appreciating the small details before you caught a glimpse of him and were startled all the same.

“Holy shit,” you sighed, pulling away for a second as you caught your breath after the shock of thinking you had caught a glimpse of some ghostly apparition. “Did you know that people knock on the door? Or let you know when they come in?” A little more and he could just hear your heart racing, almost coming out of your mouth.

He shrugged, his eyes being the only thing you could see, though you didn't need much to imagine he was half-smirking beneath the mask. “You deal with dead people every day, a little scare every now and then is fine.” If you really thought about it, he had a point to make.

“You shouldn't even come here when I'm in the middle of work.” It was a warning, being distracted wasn't something you needed right now — this whole investigation already seemed complicated enough, and you could read that between the lines. “But, since you're here I have to say... How ironic for you, a blood spatter analyst at a crime scene with no blood spatter.”

Your attention turned to the corpse again, you shouldn't have let him stay there, but Dexter was a bit stubborn when it came to staying out of your area. “It's poetic and tragic.”

He chuckled softly at your final sentence, staring at your hands and the way they worked with a little more curiosity than you would think he had about it. “I don't see the poetic part of it, but maybe you can show me.” Maybe it was your concentration on your work being stronger or you were just never sure what was and what wasn't a flirt coming from him, it was simpler to just not flirt back and avoid a potential embarrassment.

“I guess I can't exactly make you see poetry,” you answered him, occasionally glancing at him again to make sure he was still there. “But, if you tell me the reason for your visit today, perhaps I can answer your questions.”

Dexter wondered for a moment how you understood so quickly that he had something to ask, although he soon answered himself mentally by remembering that you were a medical examiner and your job was to answer questions. “I just wanted to know your professional opinion on this whole thing,” he pointed to the corpse. “No blood, no cuts, no signs of a struggle... I'm a bit impressed, I admit. No case had ever made me this useless before.”