The new detective wasn't exactly detective looking, at least to most people. They were short, feminine, they epitome of: 'I care about being a professional but adhering to my femininity.'

He admired the dedication, the careful details in your outfits and hair and makeup, it reminded him of his own dedication to killing people in his time away from his job.

You wore your fancy skirts, Dior jewelry, and fragrant perfume. But you didn't flaunt, so to say. You showed up to work and did your work, a humble person. Although recently you were sitting next him in meetings, working extra hard at scenes to find DNA, and listening intently to him.

This wasn't hard to miss for someone as observant as him, of course, maybe he reveled in it a little. But he also felt out of place next to you. Your perfume suffocated him if he breathed in a little too hard, the pink in your outfits constrasted the overly normal outfits of his.

You noticed this of course, so you wore a less fragrant perfume, and lesser pink, replacing a few pieces with tan or white, perhaps some light blue. You felt proud of yourself, it wasn't something you usually did but you liked the change up. So did Dexter.

It wasn't until one day you came in wearing basically pajamas compared to your usual attire. In which was just some baggy white pants and an off pink sweater. Your hair was a little disheveled and mascara smudged on your eyelids that you were quick to wipe away.

Later, after your break, Dexter had to hand you a report. He caught the hiccup in your breath as you spoke to him, a worn look on your face. Obviously something happened, and he had to know what did.

Hence, why he was knocking on the door of your house, holding a chocolate bar in his hand, but he didn't know if you even ate chocolate considering you were very strict about your own diet. It was worth a try, since he wasn't good st comforting people due to his own lack of empathy.