[He's perfectly still, looking for the right way to answer that question. These are things he's long wanted to say, and if he had a heart to break, knowing he's never quite going to manage to say what he means to in the real world would do the trick. That mad moment of elation when he'd realized he wasn't alone-- years, long years after Dexter had forgotten his name-- the first real moment of joy he'd had since Laura died and they were born in blood, rushes through his memory.]
It would... [he picks his words carefully, tone hollow with the gravity of what he's trying to say,] make things different. Don't abandon him. It wouldn't help, making him find his own way.
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It would... [he picks his words carefully, tone hollow with the gravity of what he's trying to say,] make things different. Don't abandon him. It wouldn't help, making him find his own way.