Nodding, she lets him step away before she stands, not wanting to tread on his toes though the impulse to trail close behind him is strong. Mulder is the one grounding point in her world right now; the magnetism he exerts has little to challenge it.

"I might," she muses. Half of her wants to offer, again, to take the couch-- on the off chance he'd sleep better in his own bed. But she has a feeling he hasn't used it in some time, and he'd just turn her down anyway. Another part of her-- a shyer part, less apt to win out-- is tempted to tell her to join her. There's plenty of room, and maybe he'd sleep if he wasn't alone, or at least rest quietly to keep from waking her. But that seems like possibly a worse idea than insisting on the couch.

"Try to get some rest tonight?" she says instead, gently. Eventually he will collapse if he doesn't, and that won't help either of them.