Chartreuse is almost too awful to joke about. She scoffs at the thought, but there's a laugh in it too; she shoots him a look which he probably can't see, but they've known each other long enough that he should be able to feel it, she thinks.

Escape hatch or not, she feels perfectly at ease, coming into his space. Mulder's tastes might be questionable from a fashion perspective, but they're comfortable. (It doesn't hurt, either, how familiar it feels; even if the furniture is new, the vibe is the same, and the past few months have made it easier to remember the good times than the bad ones.)

She hangs her coat on a hook on the wall, and drops her bags in an out-of-the-way spot, putting off the question of what to do with them. Should she unpack? Does she live out of her suitcase, like she's at a motel? She doesn't want to give the wrong impression, and since she has no idea what the right impression is, the whole thing can just... wait. For now, she goes to put on tea water without thinking twice about it.

"Still thinking about a nap?"