"Easy to remember." He feels like a stranger in here, even with extra clothes out in the car. (It seemed overly hopeful to bring them in, even though it's clear he'll have to run out for them tomorrow morning. There's just something about being at his ex-but-kind-of-current girlfriend's home, knowing he'd never been invited over before, that makes him work off the instinct of don't jinx this.) But he doesn't feel as much like a stranger as he did the first night he'd seen the condo. This is more like stranger*, the asterisk leading to the thought maybe not forever.

He gives the living room a glance, and the kitchen. It's nicer than his, the appliances shiny and smart-looking, if giving off a faintly dangerous aura. And then she's showing him the bedroom, which has a leg up on the living room in terms of coziness despite the fact that it feels strangely empty at the moment. Mulder's not sure if that's what it was always like, or if this is a post-explosion development. "For a house that recently experienced an indoor fireball, it doesn't smell too bad."