Alcott. @agentalcott - Tumblr Blog

The way you make your coffee is terrible.

@benjpoindexter

How would you know?

I tried it, and it was disgusting.

How do you know what i put in my coffee?

I saw.

Creep

The way you make your coffee is terrible.

@benjpoindexter

How would you know?

I tried it, and it was disgusting.

How do you know what i put in my coffee?

The way you make your coffee is terrible.

@benjpoindexter

How would you know?

#my criminal 𖣠

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" He tries to snatch it away.

Dex, the vigilante that leaves notes in blood for him and pesters him constantly is not at his place of work, having no care to be stealthy

Dex swiftly moved his hand away before Alcott could reach it, then tucked it away into the back pocket of the security guard uniform. He gazed around the empty office, picking up a few pens to throw if anyone dared walk in.

"Made it myself. You're front and center, Alcott."

Dex tried to get a peek at the work on Alcott's computer, whistling along to a Smiths song he listened to on the way to the office.

"Are you in love with me or something?" He hides the tabs before turning towards Poindexter. "You didn't have to come here."

Dex ignored the first question with a roll of his eyes. He pouted when Alcott hid the tabs, muttering something under his breath before hurling a pen at the agents keyboard to break it.

"Like I said: your words, not mine. Figured I'd stay longer, though. Not every day I get to see you."

Dex probably should've chosen his words better, but he didn't care. He placed the rest of the pens back into the cupholder when he was sure no one else was going to come into the office. It was right on schedule, too. He knew perfectly well just how long Alcott worked.

"You're all alone. Again."

"I was." Thankfully his mother already went home and the nightshift isn't much acquainted with him.

"You don't have to see me." Alcott suggests.

"I dont understand your obsession with me."

"I wanted to," Dex countered back, pushing off the desk to sift through the crate knives sitting on the other side. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me."

Dex picked up one of the knives and spun it around in his hand, testing the weight of it. He replaced one of the knives on his belt with the one he just picked up, his brow raised as he looked at Alcott through them.

"You appreciate the work I do. You pick up on my clues all the time without havin' to contact you."

"Thats because they aren't clever." Okay maybe they were, but Cattell wasn't going to give him that.

He peers at the knife Dex placed down. "Where'd you get that one?" He reaches for it

Dex blinked, another smile pulling onto his lips at the retort. He liked Alcott's wit. "If they weren't, half of the CIA would understand me."

"But they don't. They don't see me the way you do, Alcott." He walked back over into the cubicle to lean against the desk again.

He watched Cattell mess with the knife he set down and shrugged. "Military weapons store in Queens. You like it?"

"I'm not sure i do understand you...at least not most of them time." He flips around the blade

"I do... it's nice. I'll check that place out." He takes the knife and places it under his monitor, next to a wobbly toy beaker.

Alcott's gaze drifts to Dex's belt filled with weapons. Anything special or was it just the weapons of the dead guards.

"You try," Dex said, almost uncharacteristically soft. He glanced down at his bruised knuckles, a hint of self-contempt in his eyes before he blinked it away.

Dex moved some papers behind him so he could sit properly on the desk. "You can keep that one. Use it to do some good."

Of course, Dex's version of good wasn't exactly..the proper kind. He leaned back more at seeing Alcott analyze his belt, letting the overhead lights shine on it. He'd replaced it with his own, plus some of the guards' batons.

Alcott completely ignores the comment. Dex was a bit to accurate.

"I will." He continues to stare. He presses the back of his chair to the desk, facing the criminal fully now.

"How long do you intend on staying?"

Dex shrugged. He gave Alcott a look up and down, then focused on the floor, thinking. He could leave now and make sure Alcott gets home safe. He could stay and keep bothering the agent.

"As long as you are. I got all the time in the world, Alcott."

"I was planning on leaving." He wasn't. His mother just left a few minutes before Dex arrived and she tends to sit in her car for a while. If he was forced to see his mother more than the nine hours they have at work he'd kill himself.

Dex saw right through Alcott's words. He noticed the slight furrow in his brow, the subtle distaste at every word, as if it was wrong. It was wrong. Dex just tilted his head, his brows raising slightly.

"Liar. You leave only after the other car does. An hour later."

"Coincidence." He fiddles with the stitches on his trousers, watching how to stitches were made.

It wasn't a surprise Dex was watching him at all. Dex wasn't has stealthy as he thought. Or maybe Alcott was always looking for him.

"You're lying again," Dex commented flatly, his expression neutral. He shifted on the desk, masking the way his back ached with each breath he took. Dex refused to take his medication. Hence, his spine injury pain flared up.

He decided to bite the bullet and ask away. "That's your mom. You hate her, don't you?"

"No. Its just a colleague i dislike." How could dex see right through him. Wasn't he a good enough liar?

Without saying a single word, Dex simply turns his gaze to the office right next to Alcott's cubicle. He slowly looked back at Alcott through his brows.

"Now you're just saying the truth without really saying it. Alcott, you can't trick me."

"Theres no use in lying is there." Lying was better than sharing the evil truth, now wasn't it? He's head falls to the top of his chair. I mean her office is right there along with their shared last name.

"My mother got me this job when I was twenty five. Not the one i wanted." He chuckle, a chuckle that would be found at a poor stand up comedy show. "But that okay. It's all okay." He reassures one of the to men in the cubical.

It was okay wasn't it? Now he regrets every choice he makes all hours hes awake instead of what...curing cancer? This is the realistic job.

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" He tries to snatch it away.

Dex, the vigilante that leaves notes in blood for him and pesters him constantly is not at his place of work, having no care to be stealthy

Dex swiftly moved his hand away before Alcott could reach it, then tucked it away into the back pocket of the security guard uniform. He gazed around the empty office, picking up a few pens to throw if anyone dared walk in.

"Made it myself. You're front and center, Alcott."

Dex tried to get a peek at the work on Alcott's computer, whistling along to a Smiths song he listened to on the way to the office.

"Are you in love with me or something?" He hides the tabs before turning towards Poindexter. "You didn't have to come here."

Dex ignored the first question with a roll of his eyes. He pouted when Alcott hid the tabs, muttering something under his breath before hurling a pen at the agents keyboard to break it.

"Like I said: your words, not mine. Figured I'd stay longer, though. Not every day I get to see you."

Dex probably should've chosen his words better, but he didn't care. He placed the rest of the pens back into the cupholder when he was sure no one else was going to come into the office. It was right on schedule, too. He knew perfectly well just how long Alcott worked.

"You're all alone. Again."

"I was." Thankfully his mother already went home and the nightshift isn't much acquainted with him.

"You don't have to see me." Alcott suggests.

"I dont understand your obsession with me."

"I wanted to," Dex countered back, pushing off the desk to sift through the crate knives sitting on the other side. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me."

Dex picked up one of the knives and spun it around in his hand, testing the weight of it. He replaced one of the knives on his belt with the one he just picked up, his brow raised as he looked at Alcott through them.

"You appreciate the work I do. You pick up on my clues all the time without havin' to contact you."

"Thats because they aren't clever." Okay maybe they were, but Cattell wasn't going to give him that.

He peers at the knife Dex placed down. "Where'd you get that one?" He reaches for it

Dex blinked, another smile pulling onto his lips at the retort. He liked Alcott's wit. "If they weren't, half of the CIA would understand me."

"But they don't. They don't see me the way you do, Alcott." He walked back over into the cubicle to lean against the desk again.

He watched Cattell mess with the knife he set down and shrugged. "Military weapons store in Queens. You like it?"

"I'm not sure i do understand you...at least not most of them time." He flips around the blade

"I do... it's nice. I'll check that place out." He takes the knife and places it under his monitor, next to a wobbly toy beaker.

Alcott's gaze drifts to Dex's belt filled with weapons. Anything special or was it just the weapons of the dead guards.

"You try," Dex said, almost uncharacteristically soft. He glanced down at his bruised knuckles, a hint of self-contempt in his eyes before he blinked it away.

Dex moved some papers behind him so he could sit properly on the desk. "You can keep that one. Use it to do some good."

Of course, Dex's version of good wasn't exactly..the proper kind. He leaned back more at seeing Alcott analyze his belt, letting the overhead lights shine on it. He'd replaced it with his own, plus some of the guards' batons.

Alcott completely ignores the comment. Dex was a bit to accurate.

"I will." He continues to stare. He presses the back of his chair to the desk, facing the criminal fully now.

"How long do you intend on staying?"

Dex shrugged. He gave Alcott a look up and down, then focused on the floor, thinking. He could leave now and make sure Alcott gets home safe. He could stay and keep bothering the agent.

"As long as you are. I got all the time in the world, Alcott."

"I was planning on leaving." He wasn't. His mother just left a few minutes before Dex arrived and she tends to sit in her car for a while. If he was forced to see his mother more than the nine hours they have at work he'd kill himself.

Dex saw right through Alcott's words. He noticed the slight furrow in his brow, the subtle distaste at every word, as if it was wrong. It was wrong. Dex just tilted his head, his brows raising slightly.

"Liar. You leave only after the other car does. An hour later."

"Coincidence." He fiddles with the stitches on his trousers, watching how to stitches were made.

It wasn't a surprise Dex was watching him at all. Dex wasn't has stealthy as he thought. Or maybe Alcott was always looking for him.

"You're lying again," Dex commented flatly, his expression neutral. He shifted on the desk, masking the way his back ached with each breath he took. Dex refused to take his medication. Hence, his spine injury pain flared up.

He decided to bite the bullet and ask away. "That's your mom. You hate her, don't you?"

#//her office is right next to his cubicle

"No. Its just a colleague i dislike." How could dex see right through him. Wasn't he a good enough liar?

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" He tries to snatch it away.

Dex, the vigilante that leaves notes in blood for him and pesters him constantly is not at his place of work, having no care to be stealthy

Dex swiftly moved his hand away before Alcott could reach it, then tucked it away into the back pocket of the security guard uniform. He gazed around the empty office, picking up a few pens to throw if anyone dared walk in.

"Made it myself. You're front and center, Alcott."

Dex tried to get a peek at the work on Alcott's computer, whistling along to a Smiths song he listened to on the way to the office.

"Are you in love with me or something?" He hides the tabs before turning towards Poindexter. "You didn't have to come here."

Dex ignored the first question with a roll of his eyes. He pouted when Alcott hid the tabs, muttering something under his breath before hurling a pen at the agents keyboard to break it.

"Like I said: your words, not mine. Figured I'd stay longer, though. Not every day I get to see you."

Dex probably should've chosen his words better, but he didn't care. He placed the rest of the pens back into the cupholder when he was sure no one else was going to come into the office. It was right on schedule, too. He knew perfectly well just how long Alcott worked.

"You're all alone. Again."

"I was." Thankfully his mother already went home and the nightshift isn't much acquainted with him.

"You don't have to see me." Alcott suggests.

"I dont understand your obsession with me."

"I wanted to," Dex countered back, pushing off the desk to sift through the crate knives sitting on the other side. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me."

Dex picked up one of the knives and spun it around in his hand, testing the weight of it. He replaced one of the knives on his belt with the one he just picked up, his brow raised as he looked at Alcott through them.

"You appreciate the work I do. You pick up on my clues all the time without havin' to contact you."

"Thats because they aren't clever." Okay maybe they were, but Cattell wasn't going to give him that.

He peers at the knife Dex placed down. "Where'd you get that one?" He reaches for it

Dex blinked, another smile pulling onto his lips at the retort. He liked Alcott's wit. "If they weren't, half of the CIA would understand me."

"But they don't. They don't see me the way you do, Alcott." He walked back over into the cubicle to lean against the desk again.

He watched Cattell mess with the knife he set down and shrugged. "Military weapons store in Queens. You like it?"

"I'm not sure i do understand you...at least not most of them time." He flips around the blade

"I do... it's nice. I'll check that place out." He takes the knife and places it under his monitor, next to a wobbly toy beaker.

Alcott's gaze drifts to Dex's belt filled with weapons. Anything special or was it just the weapons of the dead guards.

"You try," Dex said, almost uncharacteristically soft. He glanced down at his bruised knuckles, a hint of self-contempt in his eyes before he blinked it away.

Dex moved some papers behind him so he could sit properly on the desk. "You can keep that one. Use it to do some good."

Of course, Dex's version of good wasn't exactly..the proper kind. He leaned back more at seeing Alcott analyze his belt, letting the overhead lights shine on it. He'd replaced it with his own, plus some of the guards' batons.

Alcott completely ignores the comment. Dex was a bit to accurate.

"I will." He continues to stare. He presses the back of his chair to the desk, facing the criminal fully now.

"How long do you intend on staying?"

Dex shrugged. He gave Alcott a look up and down, then focused on the floor, thinking. He could leave now and make sure Alcott gets home safe. He could stay and keep bothering the agent.

"As long as you are. I got all the time in the world, Alcott."

"I was planning on leaving." He wasn't. His mother just left a few minutes before Dex arrived and she tends to sit in her car for a while. If he was forced to see his mother more than the nine hours they have at work he'd kill himself.

Dex saw right through Alcott's words. He noticed the slight furrow in his brow, the subtle distaste at every word, as if it was wrong. It was wrong. Dex just tilted his head, his brows raising slightly.

"Liar. You leave only after the other car does. An hour later."

"Coincidence." He fiddles with the stitches on his trousers, watching how to stitches were made.

It wasn't a surprise Dex was watching him at all. Dex wasn't has stealthy as he thought. Or maybe Alcott was always looking for him.

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" He tries to snatch it away.

Dex, the vigilante that leaves notes in blood for him and pesters him constantly is not at his place of work, having no care to be stealthy

Dex swiftly moved his hand away before Alcott could reach it, then tucked it away into the back pocket of the security guard uniform. He gazed around the empty office, picking up a few pens to throw if anyone dared walk in.

"Made it myself. You're front and center, Alcott."

Dex tried to get a peek at the work on Alcott's computer, whistling along to a Smiths song he listened to on the way to the office.

"Are you in love with me or something?" He hides the tabs before turning towards Poindexter. "You didn't have to come here."

Dex ignored the first question with a roll of his eyes. He pouted when Alcott hid the tabs, muttering something under his breath before hurling a pen at the agents keyboard to break it.

"Like I said: your words, not mine. Figured I'd stay longer, though. Not every day I get to see you."

Dex probably should've chosen his words better, but he didn't care. He placed the rest of the pens back into the cupholder when he was sure no one else was going to come into the office. It was right on schedule, too. He knew perfectly well just how long Alcott worked.

"You're all alone. Again."

"I was." Thankfully his mother already went home and the nightshift isn't much acquainted with him.

"You don't have to see me." Alcott suggests.

"I dont understand your obsession with me."

"I wanted to," Dex countered back, pushing off the desk to sift through the crate knives sitting on the other side. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me."

Dex picked up one of the knives and spun it around in his hand, testing the weight of it. He replaced one of the knives on his belt with the one he just picked up, his brow raised as he looked at Alcott through them.

"You appreciate the work I do. You pick up on my clues all the time without havin' to contact you."

"Thats because they aren't clever." Okay maybe they were, but Cattell wasn't going to give him that.

He peers at the knife Dex placed down. "Where'd you get that one?" He reaches for it

Dex blinked, another smile pulling onto his lips at the retort. He liked Alcott's wit. "If they weren't, half of the CIA would understand me."

"But they don't. They don't see me the way you do, Alcott." He walked back over into the cubicle to lean against the desk again.

He watched Cattell mess with the knife he set down and shrugged. "Military weapons store in Queens. You like it?"

"I'm not sure i do understand you...at least not most of them time." He flips around the blade

"I do... it's nice. I'll check that place out." He takes the knife and places it under his monitor, next to a wobbly toy beaker.

Alcott's gaze drifts to Dex's belt filled with weapons. Anything special or was it just the weapons of the dead guards.

"You try," Dex said, almost uncharacteristically soft. He glanced down at his bruised knuckles, a hint of self-contempt in his eyes before he blinked it away.

Dex moved some papers behind him so he could sit properly on the desk. "You can keep that one. Use it to do some good."

Of course, Dex's version of good wasn't exactly..the proper kind. He leaned back more at seeing Alcott analyze his belt, letting the overhead lights shine on it. He'd replaced it with his own, plus some of the guards' batons.

Alcott completely ignores the comment. Dex was a bit to accurate.

"I will." He continues to stare. He presses the back of his chair to the desk, facing the criminal fully now.

"How long do you intend on staying?"

Dex shrugged. He gave Alcott a look up and down, then focused on the floor, thinking. He could leave now and make sure Alcott gets home safe. He could stay and keep bothering the agent.

"As long as you are. I got all the time in the world, Alcott."

#//Alcott intentionally moved across the city so he didn't have to see his mother #//It takes a while to get to work so he'll leave at like six to be there at seven.#my criminal 𖣠

"I was planning on leaving." He wasn't. His mother just left a few minutes before Dex arrived and she tends to sit in her car for a while. If he was forced to see his mother more than the nine hours they have at work he'd kill himself.

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" He tries to snatch it away.

Dex, the vigilante that leaves notes in blood for him and pesters him constantly is not at his place of work, having no care to be stealthy

Dex swiftly moved his hand away before Alcott could reach it, then tucked it away into the back pocket of the security guard uniform. He gazed around the empty office, picking up a few pens to throw if anyone dared walk in.

"Made it myself. You're front and center, Alcott."

Dex tried to get a peek at the work on Alcott's computer, whistling along to a Smiths song he listened to on the way to the office.

"Are you in love with me or something?" He hides the tabs before turning towards Poindexter. "You didn't have to come here."

Dex ignored the first question with a roll of his eyes. He pouted when Alcott hid the tabs, muttering something under his breath before hurling a pen at the agents keyboard to break it.

"Like I said: your words, not mine. Figured I'd stay longer, though. Not every day I get to see you."

Dex probably should've chosen his words better, but he didn't care. He placed the rest of the pens back into the cupholder when he was sure no one else was going to come into the office. It was right on schedule, too. He knew perfectly well just how long Alcott worked.

"You're all alone. Again."

"I was." Thankfully his mother already went home and the nightshift isn't much acquainted with him.

"You don't have to see me." Alcott suggests.

"I dont understand your obsession with me."

"I wanted to," Dex countered back, pushing off the desk to sift through the crate knives sitting on the other side. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me."

Dex picked up one of the knives and spun it around in his hand, testing the weight of it. He replaced one of the knives on his belt with the one he just picked up, his brow raised as he looked at Alcott through them.

"You appreciate the work I do. You pick up on my clues all the time without havin' to contact you."

"Thats because they aren't clever." Okay maybe they were, but Cattell wasn't going to give him that.

He peers at the knife Dex placed down. "Where'd you get that one?" He reaches for it

Dex blinked, another smile pulling onto his lips at the retort. He liked Alcott's wit. "If they weren't, half of the CIA would understand me."

"But they don't. They don't see me the way you do, Alcott." He walked back over into the cubicle to lean against the desk again.

He watched Cattell mess with the knife he set down and shrugged. "Military weapons store in Queens. You like it?"

"I'm not sure i do understand you...at least not most of them time." He flips around the blade

"I do... it's nice. I'll check that place out." He takes the knife and places it under his monitor, next to a wobbly toy beaker.

Alcott's gaze drifts to Dex's belt filled with weapons. Anything special or was it just the weapons of the dead guards.

"You try," Dex said, almost uncharacteristically soft. He glanced down at his bruised knuckles, a hint of self-contempt in his eyes before he blinked it away.

Dex moved some papers behind him so he could sit properly on the desk. "You can keep that one. Use it to do some good."

Of course, Dex's version of good wasn't exactly..the proper kind. He leaned back more at seeing Alcott analyze his belt, letting the overhead lights shine on it. He'd replaced it with his own, plus some of the guards' batons.

Alcott completely ignores the comment. Dex was a bit to accurate.

"I will." He continues to stare. He presses the back of his chair to the desk, facing the criminal fully now.

"How long do you intend on staying?"

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" He tries to snatch it away.

Dex, the vigilante that leaves notes in blood for him and pesters him constantly is not at his place of work, having no care to be stealthy

Dex swiftly moved his hand away before Alcott could reach it, then tucked it away into the back pocket of the security guard uniform. He gazed around the empty office, picking up a few pens to throw if anyone dared walk in.

"Made it myself. You're front and center, Alcott."

Dex tried to get a peek at the work on Alcott's computer, whistling along to a Smiths song he listened to on the way to the office.

"Are you in love with me or something?" He hides the tabs before turning towards Poindexter. "You didn't have to come here."

Dex ignored the first question with a roll of his eyes. He pouted when Alcott hid the tabs, muttering something under his breath before hurling a pen at the agents keyboard to break it.

"Like I said: your words, not mine. Figured I'd stay longer, though. Not every day I get to see you."

Dex probably should've chosen his words better, but he didn't care. He placed the rest of the pens back into the cupholder when he was sure no one else was going to come into the office. It was right on schedule, too. He knew perfectly well just how long Alcott worked.

"You're all alone. Again."

"I was." Thankfully his mother already went home and the nightshift isn't much acquainted with him.

"You don't have to see me." Alcott suggests.

"I dont understand your obsession with me."

"I wanted to," Dex countered back, pushing off the desk to sift through the crate knives sitting on the other side. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me."

Dex picked up one of the knives and spun it around in his hand, testing the weight of it. He replaced one of the knives on his belt with the one he just picked up, his brow raised as he looked at Alcott through them.

"You appreciate the work I do. You pick up on my clues all the time without havin' to contact you."

"Thats because they aren't clever." Okay maybe they were, but Cattell wasn't going to give him that.

He peers at the knife Dex placed down. "Where'd you get that one?" He reaches for it

Dex blinked, another smile pulling onto his lips at the retort. He liked Alcott's wit. "If they weren't, half of the CIA would understand me."

"But they don't. They don't see me the way you do, Alcott." He walked back over into the cubicle to lean against the desk again.

He watched Cattell mess with the knife he set down and shrugged. "Military weapons store in Queens. You like it?"

"I'm not sure i do understand you...at least not most of them time." He flips around the blade

"I do... it's nice. I'll check that place out." He takes the knife and places it under his monitor, next to a wobbly toy beaker.

Alcott's gaze drifts to Dex's belt filled with weapons. Anything special or was it just the weapons of the dead guards.

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" He tries to snatch it away.

Dex, the vigilante that leaves notes in blood for him and pesters him constantly is not at his place of work, having no care to be stealthy

Dex swiftly moved his hand away before Alcott could reach it, then tucked it away into the back pocket of the security guard uniform. He gazed around the empty office, picking up a few pens to throw if anyone dared walk in.

"Made it myself. You're front and center, Alcott."

Dex tried to get a peek at the work on Alcott's computer, whistling along to a Smiths song he listened to on the way to the office.

"Are you in love with me or something?" He hides the tabs before turning towards Poindexter. "You didn't have to come here."

Dex ignored the first question with a roll of his eyes. He pouted when Alcott hid the tabs, muttering something under his breath before hurling a pen at the agents keyboard to break it.

"Like I said: your words, not mine. Figured I'd stay longer, though. Not every day I get to see you."

Dex probably should've chosen his words better, but he didn't care. He placed the rest of the pens back into the cupholder when he was sure no one else was going to come into the office. It was right on schedule, too. He knew perfectly well just how long Alcott worked.

"You're all alone. Again."

"I was." Thankfully his mother already went home and the nightshift isn't much acquainted with him.

"You don't have to see me." Alcott suggests.

"I dont understand your obsession with me."

"I wanted to," Dex countered back, pushing off the desk to sift through the crate knives sitting on the other side. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me."

Dex picked up one of the knives and spun it around in his hand, testing the weight of it. He replaced one of the knives on his belt with the one he just picked up, his brow raised as he looked at Alcott through them.

"You appreciate the work I do. You pick up on my clues all the time without havin' to contact you."

"Thats because they aren't clever." Okay maybe they were, but Cattell wasn't going to give him that.

He peers at the knife Dex placed down. "Where'd you get that one?" He reaches for it

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" He tries to snatch it away.

Dex, the vigilante that leaves notes in blood for him and pesters him constantly is not at his place of work, having no care to be stealthy

Dex swiftly moved his hand away before Alcott could reach it, then tucked it away into the back pocket of the security guard uniform. He gazed around the empty office, picking up a few pens to throw if anyone dared walk in.

"Made it myself. You're front and center, Alcott."

Dex tried to get a peek at the work on Alcott's computer, whistling along to a Smiths song he listened to on the way to the office.

"Are you in love with me or something?" He hides the tabs before turning towards Poindexter. "You didn't have to come here."

Dex ignored the first question with a roll of his eyes. He pouted when Alcott hid the tabs, muttering something under his breath before hurling a pen at the agents keyboard to break it.

"Like I said: your words, not mine. Figured I'd stay longer, though. Not every day I get to see you."

Dex probably should've chosen his words better, but he didn't care. He placed the rest of the pens back into the cupholder when he was sure no one else was going to come into the office. It was right on schedule, too. He knew perfectly well just how long Alcott worked.

"You're all alone. Again."

"I was." Thankfully his mother already went home and the nightshift isn't much acquainted with him.

"You don't have to see me." Alcott suggests.

"I dont understand your obsession with me."

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" He tries to snatch it away.

Dex, the vigilante that leaves notes in blood for him and pesters him constantly is not at his place of work, having no care to be stealthy

Dex swiftly moved his hand away before Alcott could reach it, then tucked it away into the back pocket of the security guard uniform. He gazed around the empty office, picking up a few pens to throw if anyone dared walk in.

"Made it myself. You're front and center, Alcott."

Dex tried to get a peek at the work on Alcott's computer, whistling along to a Smiths song he listened to on the way to the office.

"Are you in love with me or something?" He hides the tabs before turning towards Poindexter. "You didn't have to come here."

Are you Dex’s boyfriend?

@purplefangedmenace

No?

Oh you act like boyfriends, just treat him right

We aren't.

You talk like you are

What does that mean?

Take a guess agent

No. Explain it.

But that Isn’t fun! A guessing game is

No.

Ugh fine, you have no whimsy. I’m just saying that you flirt and talk like yall are a divorced couple

I do not flirt with him

Are you Dex’s boyfriend?

@purplefangedmenace

No?

Oh you act like boyfriends, just treat him right

We aren't.

You talk like you are

What does that mean?

Take a guess agent

No. Explain it.

But that Isn’t fun! A guessing game is

No.

@benjpoindexter

Please come retrieve your weapons.

You kept them? I'll come get them now.

Yes, and?

Dex casually entered the New York Office that the mayor sectioned off for the CIA, disguised in a security guard outfit, taken from a guard who was on their smoke break in the back. He sauntered into the elevator with his notebook in hand where Alcott's office number was written in red ink on the inside of the cover.

He rode the elevator to Alcott's floor, spinning a pen around his index and middle finger mindlessly. When the elevator stopped on the correct floor, Dex walked right out, heading up to Alcott's cubicle with a lazy grin on his face. He had a pep in his step—a slight hum on his lips. Dex hadn't ever seen Alcott face to face. Didn't have the confidence before that, despite his arrogance.

"Agent Alcott," Dex sang out, dramatic as ever. He tossed the pen in his hand right to the wall past Alcott's face. "You have something for me."

Alcott really just wanted to get some work done, he wasn't expecting Ben or Dex as he so kindly referred to him as to show up to his place of work. Mostly because it would get him arrested on sight but also because they've never had that kind of relationship...or that's what he thought. He didn't recognize his voice but he did recognize the name he used. Most people in the office referred to him as "Mini Alcott" or "Mama's boy." Cattel couldn't remember the last time anyone in the building called him anything else. "Dex?" He whispered before looking around. He was most worried about his mother and the teasing of it all. Dex could handle himself.

Dex stayed quiet until he reached Alcott's cubicle, standing right behind him with a smile that reached ear to ear. Smeared, cleaned off blood decorated his cheek, a sad attempt to hide the fact he'd gone and murdered someone inside the building. He removed the security guard hat and placed it on Alcott's desk, maneuvering into the limited space to lean up against the desk like they were good friends.

"Alcott," he mimicked, feeling giddy. "You wanted me here. Don't act surprised."

Dex tilted his head in the direction of the crate holding his weapons, then he glanced down at Alcott, mentally cataloging anything he could. From the agents hair to his clothing, Dex filed everything away for later. He waved his notebook around in the air like it was a rare item.

"Found you with this."