The smile never wavered from Darla's face as he paid for her drink, one eyebrow arching a bit in amusement as she peered at him. Dexter Morgan. The name didn't sound familiar, which she was somewhat grateful for. She would hate to discover she was chatting up someone who was completely fictional and well-known as being fictional. It was just so difficult to take someone like that seriously.
"Likewise, and thank you for the drink," she stated, raising her glass a bit toward him before taking a swallow. Drinking wasn't something she did very often, especially as it took more alcohol than most bars tended to willingly serve their patrons to get her drunk, but she found she was enjoying herself nonetheless.
"So, Dexter," she questioned once he had his beer and the bartender had headed toward the other end of the bar to check on the patrons there, "how long have you been in Los Angeles? And what could possibly have made you want to come here?"