I don't know who you think you are, [he whispers just as harshly,] but you've got the wrong person. [He's in the middle of stalking someone, his clothes dark, hands gloved, a syringe of anesthetic in his pocket.]
Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you. [Not with, well, *that*. Certainly never with that. In fact, William's wholly unaware of what precisely Dexter's up to.]
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