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Dexter did not want to be at a party. She did not want to be anywhere outside of her apartment, she did not even want to be researching outside. Dexter was hurt and sad and being at a Christmas party with everyone being happy and shiny and friendly was not helping her being sad. Bess, the happy bride, happy pregnant wife, had dragged her out, put her in a dress and sat her here. Here was not where she wanted to be, at least Bess had let her pick a comfortable dress, even if she really didn't want to be wearing it and sitting here.

She could not understand how everyone was so, so, so, so, happy, even if it was Christmas. It wasn't like everyone was here, they were missing people. Lots of people, and it didn't seem fair to try and be happy when they were not here. Dexter set down the fork she had been using to nudge some of the food around on her plate, and dropped her chin to rest on her arms staring at the centerpiece of the table wondering if the hosts realized they were also hosting an infestation of voice-zapping rankets, maybe that's why she wasn't feeling up to speaking to anyone. She hardly glanced up when someone sat next to her, instead blowing her bangs out of her face - or trying to anyway, they just fell back into her face.