Mulder sits down cross-legged to watch her find what she needs. It's an appealing show, Scully stretching up enough that the hem of his shirt reveals a glimpse of her ass, and because of that, he's not lifting a finger to help.

Besides, she doesn't actually need him. In a moment, she's bringing over a box and pulling out a satin-wrapped deck that looks painfully high school. It's nostalgic the way a Bay City Rollers t-shirt pulled out of his mother's basement would be, the product of time and tastes so long past that they might as well belong to a different person.

The cards fit comfortably in his hands. Before he starts shuffling them, he turns them over, looking at the old-fashioned illustrations of a few cards. Eventually, he sets them down on the bedspread between them. "All right, G-woman, I have something in mind. And you'll never guess what."