"Here it all is," he agrees, sitting down at the edge of the bed and giving it an experimental bounce. Also nice - also probably nicer than his bed, a thought that's not at all unwelcome when he considers the forecast is a 90% chance of sleeping in it. He looks up at Scully, considering the look on her face. "So what's next?"

There's dinner, as a possibility, but there's also cataloguing what needs to be replaced or repaired. And there's always pulling her down here and seeing just how much nicer a mattress it is - or pulling out a deck of cards and playing poker. Watching a movie. Starting the conversation that's hanging in the air between them. The night's full of possibilities, all of them focused on Scully. Whatever you want, he wants to say. I'm just happy to be here.