Already, Maggie Scully has dealt with so much-- as much as she wants to see her mother, Scully knows she's not the daughter she ought to be and that would feel like a loss, the loss of history she can't guess at. Thanksgivings and Christmases and visits with her brother's family, unexpected landmines of shared tragedy-- there's too much to put on her. If they had no other options, maybe, but they have a direction. But, God; she's lost, and she wants her mother. Of course.

"Well," she says, measured and not quite ready to run out the door. "I have to try and do something about my hair, and makeup, so it's not a rush."

He can finish his coffee, take a shower. Mostly take a shower.