It's always felt a little strange, having a place Mulder has never seen. But what was she supposed to do? Invite him over for dinner-- I know we broke it off, come see what my life is without you? Impossible. Ridiculous.
(And why is that? Was she worried it would hurt him, to see her move on? Or that it would hurt her, to let him see the way she lived on her own; the perfectly-manicured, high-end place that could have been anyone's.)
She fixes his phone with a wary look, but it fades, eventually; she relaxes against the seat, looking out the window. This, in a way, still feels more familiar than the home they're heading to.
"Is it strange--"
Yes, it's strange; that's the wrong question. It isn't a question. She pauses and tries again. Less tentative. This isn't a hypothetical.
"I had a good time," she says, more softly, looking up at him. "Aside from the part where everything with a battery or plug tried to kill us, I mean."
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(And why is that? Was she worried it would hurt him, to see her move on? Or that it would hurt her, to let him see the way she lived on her own; the perfectly-manicured, high-end place that could have been anyone's.)
She fixes his phone with a wary look, but it fades, eventually; she relaxes against the seat, looking out the window. This, in a way, still feels more familiar than the home they're heading to.
"Is it strange--"
Yes, it's strange; that's the wrong question. It isn't a question. She pauses and tries again. Less tentative. This isn't a hypothetical.
"I had a good time," she says, more softly, looking up at him. "Aside from the part where everything with a battery or plug tried to kill us, I mean."