The Universe's Mixer

Enigma’s eyes narrowed as she stared at her rival and annoyance, watching as Christine headed for the stairs. Her brilliant mind whirled, calculating angles and positions before a grin curled over her lips, the last sight many people had seen before they died.

“Oh Christine!” Enigma called cheerily, skipping down the stairs towards the woman, the golden rod in her hand extending into the heavy cane. Just a few...more...steps...

As Christine turned, she swung the cane towards her temple, intending to send her flying straight back and hopefully break the little bitch’s neck. After the hit connected, she dropped the cane into the shadows, knowing she could retrieve it later, but since everyone had seen her walking with it...she couldn't just keep it around.

She grinned, before reaching out to grab the woman, screaming, but having timed it so she just missed, watching as Christine fell, a wicked grin on her lips.

He had been home.

Dexter had returned to Miami, he had gone back to his life. Three years he'd worked to overcome the things he'd experienced in the City, three years he'd taken to piece himself - and the Code - back together. He'd settled back into routine, work, and Rita. Things between himself and the Dark Passenger had settled back down. They were back to the way they had been. Killing on schedule, killing carefully, no longer warring, no longer sliding into one another.

It had not been easy.

After the freedoms he'd discovered, after the things he'd experienced, the things he'd done, it was difficult to go back to restraint, to rules, to always pretending to be human.

But now, he was back.

It had not taken very long for Dexter to understand where he was. When the neighborhood surrounding his apartment ceased to be the familiar scene that he was used to in Miami literally as he was walking through it, and when the buildings shifted their positions as he watched, Dexter felt his heart sink. He did not want to be in this place again. It wasn't safe for him, and it wasn't safe for other people. There was too much risk here that he could lose all control. People didn't know him here. Not like they did in Miami. He didn't need to wear the Dexter mask at all times when walking these streets. It slipped too easily. Deb had joined him in the City a couple of times, but she had not remained long enough.

He needed somebody who knew him, who expected him to behave like a human being so that he could keep himself in check. There weren't people like that here. There were people who knew him at work, but he'd always kept them at work. He wondered if he would find any familiar faces at all, since he knew that sometimes the City sent them back. It had done just that to him, after all. George? Red? They were friends, but they knew what he really was. They were aware he wasn't human and didn't require that he pretend with them. Still, it might be nice to see them.

Dexter fiddled with the laminate badge hanging around his neck. Not Miami Police anymore, but City Police once again. No Rita, no Deb, no Doakes, no Astor or Cody. The only hope he had at the moment was work. He could drown himself in work. Just stay busy.

[ooc: Backdated to before the Enigma thread]

Although Christine did not need to rehearse as much as she did as Violetta she still liked to attend and watch if she could. Why not? Everything about the theatre and opera called to her and always would. She was born for this kind of thing. As much as she was not a diva, and would not like to ever become one, she knew the stage would always call for her. Music coursed through her veins and she knew that was not going to change.

Neither was her love of dancing.

Although she had her own dancing studio within the manor now she still liked to watch the ballet mistress at work. It gave her the chance to pick up the routine or some ideas to work on during her own personal practices. After all, it had all been arranged for her to sit in on dance rehearsals whenever she wished though she made sure to warn her in advance. After changing out of her dance clothes, she left her dressing room and slung her rather large bag over her shoulder.

She should call for help. Michael would probably bring the car from wherever it was if she asked but she didn't see why she should bother him. It wouldn't take too long to walk to the manor and she had walked to the Opera House after all. True, that was not after dancing but she was fit enough that it didn't bother her too much.