stalking big bro accidentally.
[ Dexter is certainly not one for parties, but he's been exploring as well, and a crowd of people packed into a place called the Blood Shack is, likewise, enough to grab his attention. He's grabbed some garb he's a little more comfortable with - a button-down with a subdued enough floral print to not be tacky, and some khakis. If anyone asks, he's a tourist.
Just like I hope to be - a brief stay, the memory of which drifts away once I return home and fall back into the routines of everyday life. And every night life.
The group of people is a bit much for him, as is the music and the general sense of revelry. Lucky for him, he spots one of the few familiar faces right off the bat which allows him to duck out of the assorted chaos of a mass social gathering. Maybe meeting in the center isn't going to pan out. ]