It's not like it seems unusual, by Mulder standards. Frankly his nest looks like he's slept in it at least once or twice, and that's a good thing. All of this is terribly on brand.

"You at least need a couch and a table. Something with locking drawers if you're going to get a gun," she points out, rolling her eyes as she delicately sits cross-legged at the edge of his fabric sprawl.

She'd been planning to stay. Not on asking to stay or even insisting on it, just on doing it; this certainly complicates that notion. It's one thing to take the floor while he's on the couch or let him insist on giving her the couch, but there's not even that flimsy attempt at chivalry. There is not only one bed, there is no bed. She'll make it work. (It's fine. It's not weird.)

"Next time, there's a place I like in Primavera-- it's a little like Thai food," she says idly, opening up her salad.