dexter Morgan sits on the bench, newspaper folded open in my hands. The headline catches my eye another killing, precise and controlled. I study every detail, every move laid bare in print. Your pattern is clear. Careful. Calculated. You follow a code, just like me. Not reckless, not sloppy. That kind of control is rare. You might fit. “Tonight, the line between hunter and hunted fades. Tonight’s the night.”
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