"Wall-to-wall work," he says sympathetically. Scully in a book club, he can imagine. Scully spending all her time doing medicine and then coming home exhausted - that, too. But there's something about it that bugs him, and he has to take a moment (and another sip of coffee) before he can decide what it is.

It's the fact that the stated problem in their relationship was the fact that he haunted their home like a ghost, dragging both of them further into a misery that she was, admittedly, correct in spotting. The idea that we're not living our best lives was reason enough to leave, when the life she describes doesn't sound all that much different or better than what they had together. It's mostly Mulder-free, of course; she probably goes days at a time without thinking about poltergeists or cryptids or the Illuminati, and maybe that's enough to make everything else worth it.

But it still bothers him. So he asks the inevitable question. "Are you happy?"

(If nothing else, at least it's not confrontational or accusatory. He genuinely wants to know - he just doesn't really care that it's not the kind of thing you're supposed to ask people, especially exes. When has he ever cared about that?)