"The house of a security freak," he says lightly, looking around the place. Without the alarm going off, he can actually take in their surroundings rather than trying to come up with a cover story while Scully figured out the password. 0223, a lucky second guess. "That must be your alarm system."

Mulder's is a little more old-fashioned at the moment, relying on distance and anonymity rather than high-tech solutions, but he can appreciate the instinct that brought Scully here. Maybe not to the decor, which reminds him more of a waiting room in a high-end medical office, but that alarm must help her sleep at night.

But they're in, and if the police show up, they'll probably be able to explain themselves. Mulder shuts the front door. "Let's take a tour."