He owes her a bullet vibrator, at the very least, but probably a serious renovation. That much becomes clear as he wanders through the house. There's a lot of charring - they're probably lucky the whole thing didn't burn down to its metal-and-glass bones.
"Hello, emergency?" It's a strange thing to call 9-1-1 while poking through the fridge. It looks like it was off all night - one more thing to report to insurance. Will they replace spoiled food? He's willing to argue it with a claims adjustor. "I'm calling from, uh -"
Shit, where are they? (How has she lived here so long without his knowing where she is?) He holds the phone away from his mouth a second as he calls, "SCULLY, WHAT'S THE ADDRESS?"
"1213 37th Place," he says, a moment later. "It looks like there was a fire here last night - we need someone to come out and see what happened."
The dispatcher says they'll send people out, and that's that. He's back to wondering at the place, looking at the rooms and trying to imagine them unblistered by fire. Trying to imagine Scully in them, living her best life. Bringing dates home and opening bottles of wine and -
Stop that, Fox.
He heads back toward the bedroom, telling himself he doesn't care who visited it before him. "Fire department's on their way. Need anything from the rest of the house?"
no subject
"Hello, emergency?" It's a strange thing to call 9-1-1 while poking through the fridge. It looks like it was off all night - one more thing to report to insurance. Will they replace spoiled food? He's willing to argue it with a claims adjustor. "I'm calling from, uh -"
Shit, where are they? (How has she lived here so long without his knowing where she is?) He holds the phone away from his mouth a second as he calls, "SCULLY, WHAT'S THE ADDRESS?"
"1213 37th Place," he says, a moment later. "It looks like there was a fire here last night - we need someone to come out and see what happened."
The dispatcher says they'll send people out, and that's that. He's back to wondering at the place, looking at the rooms and trying to imagine them unblistered by fire. Trying to imagine Scully in them, living her best life. Bringing dates home and opening bottles of wine and -
Stop that, Fox.
He heads back toward the bedroom, telling himself he doesn't care who visited it before him. "Fire department's on their way. Need anything from the rest of the house?"