Dexter made up his coffee and pulled out some eggs and cheese so he could make something for himself to eat. He had woken up because he had smelled food and heard noise. He shook his head, though inwardly he thought of his hidden compartment on his case and the slides behind the air conditioner. He’d have to check those when he was gone.
"Well, I’m not going back. I thought it would…fix things but it just made it worse." He looked over at Wade.
"I think you have a stereotype for drug addicts." He brushed a hand through his hair and finished up his eggs before moving to the table to sit across from him.
"So what brings you to my apartment while I’m actually here?"
Wade was all too aware that Dexter was hiding something. What exactly he wasn’t sure, but that was the bad thing. The mercenary was curious now. Chances of him backing off was pretty impossible after something caught his interest and unfortunately for Dexter, that man was it. It wasn’t like people lied about being a drug addict just for fun. “Dealt with enough drug dealers and druggies in my line of business. You learn to be able to catch who’s itching for a fix and unless you’ve detoxed pretty well, you ain’t itching for a fix even if you are in recovery.”
The question had Wade shrugging as he glanced around the apartment, finding it more interesting than the conversation itself. “You said if I was in town we’d hang out. Figured I’d poke in. I actually knocked on the door, but no answer so I let myself in. You know, this is a pretty nice apartment. A little too clean. You have OCD or something? It’s like nobody lives here.”