"It's..." She tips her head, looks out the window. The house is... well, surprisingly secluded, considering the fact that it's in a nice suburb; the planting and the way it's set back from the street make it feel private. Is that what she wanted?

"I don't know," she admits, loosing her seatbelt and cracking the door open, though for a moment she just stares. It's not that she had a specific expectation, but this--

It just seems so much less friendly than Mulder's place. That's unfair, she reminds herself-- she's just adjusted to being out there with him; it had looked unkempt and lonely at first, too. Shaking off the judgment, she gets out and slowly approaches.

"Oh, can you grab--" Yeah, good job, announce your intentions. "You know, from the glove box," she finishes vaguely, because he'll know what she means. The crowbar, ideally, can be a last resort.

She stands on the walkway; there isn't much to see, the windows on this wall frosted and imposing. Could she see herself here? Maybe-- it looks... successful, somehow. Expensive, no doubt, but not ostentatious-- it's probably comfortable inside. It feels professional and classy but she just can't make herself feel like it's right.