"It's nice out," she reasons. Warmer than she'd expect for this time of year. "Why not?"

A little exploration yields a clean bowl for the rice, and with a pat of butter added she considers it a job well done. Cooking isn't her forte, but apparently it's become Mulder's. The scent is enough to make her stomach rumble, her wayward appetite apparently also susceptible to the strange air of normalcy.

"You still have to show me around the garden," she adds with a smile, remembering his earlier comments.