Inside, things are a little rougher. It's dim, light glowing through the drawn shades. Dishes sit unwashed in the sink, in a kitchen that otherwise looks like it doesn't get much use. It's been...a couple of days? No, probably a week, he's pretty sure it's been a week. He's starting to run out of dishes.
One corner of the living room is piled high with stuff that looks suspiciously like it came from the office. Newspaper clippings and photos aren't limited to that corner, though; they run along all the walls, the entire living room, the stairway up to the second floor. Where other people have family photos, Mulder only has Bigfoot sightings. It's no longer his old leather couch in the living room, but the replacement has a generic look, like it was bought without much thought. Despite the fact that there's an entire upstairs, there's a rumpled blanket and pillow on the cushions.
Only walking in with Scully does he realize that the air's a little stale in here. He flicks on a light, hoping it has the same scatterbrained charm that his old apartment did, and goes to open a window. "It's nothing fancy, but there's a guest room. Well - an office. I'll take that. And maybe we'll cruise Netflix for something to watch tonight."
The kitchen table is small, but there are multiple chairs, and once he piles up his unopened mail and moves it to a kitchen counter, there's room for them to sit down and eat.
no subject
One corner of the living room is piled high with stuff that looks suspiciously like it came from the office. Newspaper clippings and photos aren't limited to that corner, though; they run along all the walls, the entire living room, the stairway up to the second floor. Where other people have family photos, Mulder only has Bigfoot sightings. It's no longer his old leather couch in the living room, but the replacement has a generic look, like it was bought without much thought. Despite the fact that there's an entire upstairs, there's a rumpled blanket and pillow on the cushions.
Only walking in with Scully does he realize that the air's a little stale in here. He flicks on a light, hoping it has the same scatterbrained charm that his old apartment did, and goes to open a window. "It's nothing fancy, but there's a guest room. Well - an office. I'll take that. And maybe we'll cruise Netflix for something to watch tonight."
The kitchen table is small, but there are multiple chairs, and once he piles up his unopened mail and moves it to a kitchen counter, there's room for them to sit down and eat.