"Maybe." She'd get bored with first aid - he's pretty sure about that. The medicine Scully's interested in is complicated and occasionally bleeding-edge in terms of treatment plans. Teaching green agents about wrapping sprains and tying tourniquets won't keep her interest in the same way, however good an instructor she can be.

So that vague plan, the one that goes Scully's nearer to me, ????, profit, is scuttled for the moment. Instead, they'll just meet awkwardly between their homes over a meal and struggle to find things to say to each other. Because that's the worst part of this, as well as the most tantalizing part of talking to Scully more regularly: He doesn't know what to say to her to make the conversation move easily, but being around her will inevitably solve the problem. For the moment, he falls quiet, dipping a pair of fries into his ketchup.