"I'm sorry, Deb." Dex said, looking at his feet, though she couldn't see what he was doing. "It was the kind of work that couldn't just be ignored."
Like killing his best friend and trying to save himself from a psychotic knife.
"I hate to say it, but you're sort of lucky I'm here at all. Most people don't have anybody they already know." Dexter said it with a bit of hint in his voice, indicating that's how it'd been for him.