Dex was bitter.

And everyone in the station knew that.

Straight posture, stiff shoulders, a glare that slice steel. He was scary, calculated, clean, too clean. He was precise, everything he did had its reason, and it usually worked out the way he wanted it to. He wasn't lazy, but he wasn't a robot either, even though he acted like Terminator almost all the time.

He had his moments, he smiled after a successful case or mission, light, small, barely there. But to him, smiling was a waste of time when you had a busted lip every time something violent and gnarly comes up. Then he had to fight like a dog all over again, with no one to 'lick his wounds' so to speak.

Until you. The new transfer.

You were new, an analyst or journalist of some kind. All soft and sweet like a bite of a juicy pear. You were delicious to his eyes before he even accepted this new infatuation. You were polite, not overly sweet, even though he felt a cavity in his jaw every time you laughed, or maybe that was him trying not to laugh with you.

You were perfect in his stormy hazel eyes

You'd even give him a sincere greeting every time you crossed paths, and he'd give an awkward smile back.

Real smooth, Poindexter.