I just know there’s something dark in me and I hide it. I certainly don’t talk about it, but it’s there always, this Dark Passenger. And when he’s driving, I feel alive, half sick with the thrill of complete wrongness. I don’t fight him, I don’t want to. He’s all I’ve got.
Deb: You are not allowed to talk about anyone I date as long as you’re seeing Little Miss “Pardon My Tits”. I’m sorry, Dex, but she is gross. And pale, and nobody is pale in Miami. She is obviously a vampire. A gross, English, titty vampire.
Dexter: you just described the perfect woman.