i will never be what you want

8

List of Favorite Movies   8. Pocahontas (1995)

“You think the only people who are people are the people who look and think like you, but if you walk the footsteps of a stranger you’ll learn things you never knew you never knew.”

10

*inhales deeply* SO back in 2013, I made a shitty Ace Attorney PowerPoint so my bf could have context to all the shitty AA doodles I did. I’ve dug up this relic and decided to update it with all the hip and happening characters and plot. It’s spoiler free imo, except Mia, but it’s like known by anyone who has played past case 1-1, so….

AAI slides were done primarily by @doodleblah because I never got around to playing those and she loves them. Not everyone is on here because they’re just the characters I primarily draw so sorry von Karma, Kristoph, Dahlia, Fulbright, etc

Even if you called 6 months later at 3 am, I’d still answer; I’ll always care.
—  Unknown
I hope one day you regret everything and realize things weren’t so bad between us and maybe you realize I did my best for you every single day. However, when that day comes I’ll be gone, and we missed a perfectly good chance to find happiness together.
  • Mr Kubdel: Jalil is kinda irresponsible, I'll give the watch to Alix instead
  • Alix: *breaks watch within an hour and goes on a murder spree*
  • Mr Kubdel: Why are my children like this
I’m a feminist because...

I’m a feminist because everyone should be.

Growing up, my parents would always tell me to be properly dressed around my brothers. Never mind that they were walking around in short boxer briefs, it was me who had to be presentable. I was the girl, after all.

In school, I was always taught that the way I dressed affected a boy’s education. I was taught that the slight peek of my shoulder was enough to get me sent to the head office. It was much too distracting, because after all, a boy’s education had to be more important than a girl’s. At least, that was what they were teaching me.

This is why I’m a feminist.

I’m a feminist because it is 2017, and when I talk about how unfair it is that a professional athlete gets to walk away from the accusation of raping a girl without a single ding to their career, I’m some sort of radical that needs to calm down. Because that poor girl’s life will never be the same, but said athlete’s career is perfectly intact.

I’m a feminist because my aunt says things like, “Oh, those feminists, they just need to shave their armpits and get over it.” Because somehow the grooming of my body hair has everything to do with the rights I’m fighting for.

I’m a feminist because people still think you must have a vagina to be considered a woman.

I’m a feminist because I am 20 years old, and when I tell people I’m not sure I want to have kids, they look at me like I just defied all womankind.

I’m a feminist because when mothers choose to work rather than stay at home with their children, they aren’t doing “enough.”

I’m a feminist because when fathers choose to stay at home with their children rather than work, they somehow aren’t as “manly.”

I’m a feminist because parents still won’t let their sons play with Barbies.

I’m a feminist because young boys are taught that crying is bad. Showing emotion is bad, better to bottle it up and never feel. If you cry, you’re a girl, and no one wants to be a girl.

I’m a feminist because when my family talks about the Women’s March that happened yesterday, they say things like, “What’s protesting going to change?” and “They’re honestly just wasting their time. Nobody’s going to listen to them.” Never mind that the country we are living in found its freedom through protesting—No Taxation Without Representation. But I suppose that’s okay. It was men protesting then.

I’m a feminist because when my aunt saw a picture of a man marching with women yesterday, she snorted and said, “What’s he doing there? Doesn’t he have something better to do?” Her seven year old son was sitting next to her.

I’m a feminist because a highly qualified politician lost the presidential election to a less than mediocre businessman who based his campaign on misogyny, racism, bigotry, and slander. Because this country would rather see an over privileged, racist, homophobic, white man, whose years of experience sums up to zero, in office rather than a woman whose qualifications are more than his will ever be. Because I somehow have to have years of experience before I can even get my first job, but Donald Trump can get sworn into office without a single day of political experience.

I’m a feminist because the President of the United States speaks vilely of women and all minorities, and I’m the terrible one for disliking him.

I’m a feminist because I get made fun of for being a feminist.

I’m a feminist because I want the next generation of girls to live in a better world than mine.

I’m a feminist for these reasons and so many others.

I’m a feminist because everyone should be.

2

I love year 8 fics, where they’re figuring out the people they’re going to be after the war, but still stuck in hogwarts making up for the disrupted (or skipped) year 7. 

And if those fics have hurt/comfort dealing with the aftermath of, well, of everything, then I am 10000% there for that. 

Musicals that definitely need more songs on their soundtracks and in general
  • Wicked
  • Dear Evan Hansen
  • Something Rotten!
  • Hamilton
  • The Color Purple
  • Hairspray
  • RENT
  • The Phantom of the Opera
  • The Book of Mormon
  • The Last Five Years
  • Falsettos
  • Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812
  • Les Misérables
  • In the Heights
  • If/Then
  • School of Rock
  • Bright Star
  • Tuck Everlasting
  • Finding Neverland
  • Next to Normal
  • Waitress
  • Catch Me If You Can
  • Fiddler on the Roof
  • Heathers
  • Fun Home
  • Gigi
  • Beautiful: The Carole King Musical
  • Into the Woods
  • The Hunchback of Notre Dame
  • The Sound of Music
  • West Side Story
  • Newsies
  • Matilda
  • Kinky Boots
  • Spring Awakening
  • The Wiz
  • And
  • Every
  • Other
  • MUSICAL

My life goal is to adapt every meme

okay but harry/magnus’ biceps are definitely bigger than matt/alec’s and im like 85% sure he’s broader too stop writing magnus as ‘lithe’ 'lean’ or 'small’ he is none of those things

make me choose confexionery asked: the be our guest feast or a dinner from tiana

anonymous asked:

If you wanted to i'd love to see Gav using his charm and wiles to get the others lads out of trouble somehow, maybe flirting them out of some kind of mess or something?

Michael and Jeremy have been dealing with a particularly unpleasant crew, forced into a fake civility every couple of weeks when they go together to collect shipments or demand payments. It’s the sort of thing Gavin would normally be involved with, at least in the early days of establishing a relationship, but no one really wants him near this one at all; the crew in question is incredibly unstable, more mercenaries in an ever-shifting arrangement than anything like the close-knit loyalty of the FAHC, and their leader is absolutely the worst of them. Some smarmy bastard with a stupid name neither Jeremy nor Michael deign to remember – Taylor or Tristen or Troy – he’s always intentionally rude, stopping just shy of openly mocking the Fake’s with an arrogance that even his own people seem to despise.

It would be so much easier to just kill him and move on but no matter how much Michael and Jeremy argue Geoff won’t have it. Something about relations, how for all Toby(?) is an asshole he’s got enough power, a nasty enough crew, that it’s smarter to just wait them out for now, get whatever they can out of them before it all goes south. Which is easy enough to say when Geoff’s got very little to do with them, but nonetheless Michael and Jeremy suck it up, go to every dealing with clenched teeth and itchy trigger fingers, and life goes on.

After one such meeting, maybe three months after this unwilling relationship began, Michael and Jeremy drive out to meet Gavin for drinks, Jeremy tuning out as Michael rants the whole way to the bar because all he wants is a beer or twelve, wanted to just go to their normal dive but Gavin had insisted on coming out to this fancy yuppie shithole. It’s still full of crooks but mostly the rich, stuck-up variety instead of honest thugs, the kind of place that likely only stocks pretentious brews, but Gavin offered to pay so here they were.

Gavin’s already there when they arrive, leaning carelessly against the bar, all fake flirty smiles and inviting angles as he holds court, surrounded by half a dozen admirers - though two in particular seem to be jockeying for his attention. Thing One had just turned to growl something at Thing Two when Gavin notices his Lads coming through the door, lazy showman grin brightening into something more genuine as he shakes off his fans and flounces over. The group is less than pleased, more than one throwing absolutely filthy looks that have Michael sneering nastily back while Jeremy not-so-innocently flexes beside him, neither making any effort to hide their weapons and quickly sending the one idiot who tried to follow into a hasty retreat. Gavin just laughs, grabs a tray of beers before towing his boys back towards a booth.

That should really be that, except apparently Gavin’s not quite finished with whatever game he’s playing. It’s clear his focus is still on Thing’s One and Two rather than the conversation happening around him; he asks all the right questions, hums sympathetically in all the right places, but nothing gives away Gavin’s drifting interests quite as much as the palpable feeling of having his undivided attention.  Michael asks, Gavin ignores him in favour of throwing an all too familiar smile towards the bar, and Jeremy groans, thunking his head against the table and wishing he’d just gone home.

It’s not genuine interest, there’s nothing honest in the way Gavin’s eyes narrow, nothing sweet in the sharpness of his grin, which is just as well really because Gavin certainly knows how to pick them. Thing One is gorgeous in a poisonous kind of way, tight black clothes and blood red lips only accentuated by the wicked looking scar curving across her cheek. Thing Two isn’t quite so put together but is no less imposing, big and blonde and definitely armed.

They both tracked Gavin’s movement across the room like starving dogs, sneering and snapping at one another as they turn back to their place at the bar where they’d obviously been sitting together before Gavin stuck his big nose between them. Jeremy and Michael toss each other a glance, long suffering but confident; it wouldn’t be pretty but presuming it was two on two they could take them. That’s the grim reality of drinking with Gavin when he’s in one of these moods; there’s no saying there will be a fight, but you’ve always got to be ready for the moment he tires of civilised society and pushes someone into violence just because he can.

And Gavin is definitely in a mood, openly playing the two against each other every time he passes on his way to the bar; brushing against one, flashing her a secret little smile, only to make eyes at the other on his way back, the man half rising from his stool as Gavin laughs and trots back to the booth. When Thing One ducks into the bathroom Gavin steals her seat, leans right into Two’s space and orders them each three shots before slinking off again. When Thing Two walks off to answer his phone Gavin’s back to buy One a drink, something straight and dark and far more impressive than his own neon cocktail.

So goes the rest of the hour; it’s blindingly obvious by now, at least to anyone on the outside, that Gavin is driving headfirst into one hell of a fight with no sign of hitting the breaks. His admirers are getting steadily drunker, louder and nastier with one another as they try to compete, and Gavin just keeps throwing fuel on the fire.

It finally comes to a head when, on yet another bar run, Gavin brushes past them both and zeroes in on a third man who’d just arrived, abandoning coy touches and heated looks for his thickest accent and most charming smile. The three at the bar clearly knew one another, the Things had been friendly enough when greeting the third, but the longer Gavin stands there chattering away the cooler their interactions become, shoulders growing stiff and tight as fists clench and voices rise.

Seemingly oblivious Gavin keeps stirring the pot, whispering something to one, winking at another, brushing off someone’s reaching hand only to skate fingers down the other’s arm, until eventually he tosses his head and stalks off in a huff, triumphant little smirk sneaking across his face as an all-out fight breaks out behind him.

Michael, who’d been growing snippier and snippier all night, is fed up with pandering to Gavin’s nonsense when he and Jeremy actually had to work today. He gets himself going on tirade about just wanting to drink and forget the assholes Geoff has them dealing with, not watch Gavin flutter his eyes at idiots and destroy their friendships for his own sick amusement. Jeremy tries to agree wholeheartedly but Gavin interrupts him with an exaggerated pout that quickly bubbles into laughter as he croons back, as infuriating as ever, aw Bois, don’t I always do right by you?

Timing as spot on as always Michael doesn’t even get to snap a reply before an almighty crash has the three of them spinning around just in time to see Mystery Man #3 tripping over the floored bar stool, turning just far enough in their direction to reveal himself as none other than Todd (Tommy? Theo?). He’s reaching into his jacket in a way that has half the bar twitching towards their own holsters but its already over, Thing Two grabbing at his arms while Thing One ducks in from behind, rapid jerky motion of her arm unmistakable as she makes good use of a knife.

There’s shouting now, people moving in every direction as even the bartenders pull out weapons but Michael and Jeremy just turn back to Gavin, eerily synchronized in their surprise, and Gavin smiles. Climbs to his feet and buttons his jacket as casual as you please, all C’mon lads it’s getting a bit too loud in here innit? Like the bane of their last few months isn’t bleeding out on the floor, like Jeremy isn’t still open mouthed in shock, like Michael isn’t choking back laughter all vicious and brilliant, adoring affection so familiar on his grinning face.

Tomorrow Geoff will get a phone call. Will hear that Travis was taken out in some kind of scuffle, died slow and bloody in a bar just outside the city. He’ll hear that it was an inside job, some escalation of a drunken argument between Travis’ people, that their whole crew is in uproar and already splintering apart, not much of a threat to anyone besides each other. Geoff will know that despite their desire Michael and Jeremy couldn’t have had anything to do with it, death witnessed by far too many to be a frame-up, will know that even Gavin, who’d been sniffing around the deal ever since his precious Lads started complaining, can’t possibly have forced Travis’ crewmates to kill him. And yet, tomorrow Geoff will glare at the three flopped all over his couch, faux surprise at the news doing nothing to hide the way they’re as unapologetically self-satisfied as overgrown cats, and will know with the absolute surety of any harried parent that somehow, in some way, this mess was absolutely their fault.

For now, though, three friends spill laughing out of the bar, hopped up on petty vengeance and unmatched camaraderie, on the sweet victory of their chosen reality; the night is young, the city is theirs, and the Lad’s remain untouchable.

anonymous asked:

20. babysitting together for msr pls??

Dear anon, I’m not sure this qualifies as babysitting together… it just turned out like this. And of course it got long again. 

Set in early season six.

Mulder knows Scully is home because there are noises coming from inside.

He’s knocked twice already and now he’s waiting, maybe a little bit impatiently; he’s worrying the edges of the case files he’s holding in his hands. The flimsy excuse for his visit.

About to knock again, the door opens, and at first Mulder, expecting Scully, doesn’t see the tiny person basically hanging from the door knob.

“Who are you?” Mulder lowers his eyes upon hearing the voice and blinks in confusion.

“This is- Dana Scully’s apartment?” The child stares up at him, imitating his blinking. The child, he can’t deny, looks eearily like Scully herself; red hair, but unruly, unbrushed, and big, blue, very curious eyes. His first thought is that he’s entered an alternate reality where Dana Scully, his partner, is nothing but a child.

“Aunty Dana there is a strange man here!” The small girl yells without taking her eyes off him. Of course, Mulder thinks and smiles at the girl who remains skeptical, narrowing her eyes. A Scully child, but not her; and definitely not hers. He tries to chase the thought away quickly, but the child… why does this girl look so much like Scully herself?

“Hannah, I told you not to- Mulder? What are you doing here?”

“I…uhm, there was something in this-“ He keeps staring at the child, who wears the same curious expression as Scully, in just a few sizes smaller.

“Is this the man Uncle Bill always complains about?” The girl, Hannah, asks, gazing up at Mulder.

“That sounds like me.” Mulder smiles, but the girl remains wary.

“Mulder, this is my niece Hannah,” Scully’s voice sounds like an endless sigh, “She is Charlie’s daughter.” He expects her to give more details, but she doesn’t. Judging by her look she is waiting for him to say his piece and leave her alone again.

“Hi, Hannah. Uhm, Scully I was wondering if I could talk to you about this case but… I didn’t know your brother was here.”

“He’s not,” Hannah quickly interjects, “he and mommy are on a date. That’s why I get to stay with aunt Dana. I like her a lot.” Mulder nods, fully understanding the child. There’s no one else he’d rather spend time with either. That’s the whole reason he’s here after all.

“What is a case, aunt Dana? Can Mulder come in and play with us?” He does his best to look harmless and puts on a pouty smile. Two against one is unfair, he realizes, but he’s shameless.

“All right, Mulder can come in.” Scully, still in sighing mood, opens the door to let Mulder inside. Apparently this is the sign for Hannah to completely claim him for herself. She takes his hand and almost forcefully leads him over to the couch. There’s a huge box of Legos next to Scully’s usually impeccable couch table. Mulder admires the colorful, child made construct.

“Did you make this?” Hannah nods proudly and grins, showing him a nice combination of baby teeth and empty spaces.

“It’s a space ship,” she tells him and Mulder quickly glances at Scully, whose face is unreadable. “Aunt Dana says aliens are gray. My daddy told me they’re green.”

“Oh, did she?” Mulder can’t help the grin on his face just like Scully can’t hide the blush that spreads on hers. “But she’s right, you know.”

“I want to go to space when I’m big. Do you think I can? Aunt Dana says I can.”

“You know what? You should always listen to what your aunt Dana tells you. She is really smart and almost always right. And I’m absolutely certain you can go to space when you’re big.” Hannah turns to look at Scully, a big fat grin on her face.

“Mulder, you wanted to talk to me about a case?”

“But Mulder needs to help me build the space ship!”

“I’m sure Mulder has other plans, Hannah. Anyway, it’s almost time for bed.” The girl huffs loudly. He considers telling Scully that he doesn’t have other plans; the case was just an excuse to come here. What Mulder didn’t consider, though, is that unlike him she might be busy on a Friday night. The thought of spending a weekend apart from her seemed unbearable; they spent so many weekends together, not necessarily by choice, while assigned to the x-files. Now he doesn’t remember not to be around her all the time. But she didn’t tell him about her brother visiting, or babysitting her niece. He wouldn’t have just shown up if she had (or he would have thought of a better reason). So he figures it’s partly her fault he’s here now.

“Mulder?” Scully’s voice is impatient as she points her finger towards the kitchen. He picks up his file and follows her. “So what did you want to talk about? Why didn’t you just call? Why couldn’t it have waited til Monday?”

“Uhm…” Mulder doesn’t have an answer for any of her questions. Seeing Hannah has thrown him off; seeing Scully with the girl who looks so much like her has made him forget everything. Completely out of patience, Scully tears the file out of Mulder’s hands.

“Mulder, you can’t be serious. This is not an x-file. It’s not even a case!” She closes the file forcefully and throws it on the table. “So why are you really here?”

“I- it is a case, Scully. These teenagers-“

“Mulder, no. You could have called me with this and it would have taken me two minutes to tell you that this is nothing. Not to mention that we’re off the x-files. Yet you decided to drive over here on a Friday night. Why?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your niece?” Scully’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

“I don’t see how this is any of your business.

“You didn’t tell me your brother was in town.”

“Mulder, what I do on weekends is my business. This doesn’t concern you and if there’s no reason for you to be here…” She trails off suddenly, crossing her arms in front of her and just stares at him.

“But why didn’t you just tell me your brother was visiting? I wouldn’t have come here.” Of course it’s a lie. Knowing her brother was here, the one who doesn’t know him and maybe, just maybe, doesn’t hate him, might not have changed anything. He still would have missed her. He wants to tell her exactly that – that he misses her, that a weekend without her is insufferable – but he knows how she’ll react if he does; she’ll roll her eyes, she’ll say his name in that particular way and she’ll send him away. So he decides to stall and turn the tables around.

“Like I said, Mulder, this is not about you. This is my life, my family. It doesn’t concern you.” Her words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do. Yet, they tear right through him, gnaw strongly at him. He sighs deeply and watches her like she watches him. At least she hasn’t thrown him out yet.

“Mulder!” A voice chimes from the living room. “I need help on my space ship!”

“At least one Scully woman still likes me.” Mulder’s attempt at humor falls short when Scully’s face remains stoic.

“She doesn’t know you very well.” Scully replies and that one really hurts.

“Am I allowed to help her? Or do you want me to leave?” Her answer is clearly written on her face; she wants him to leave. Mulder knows they need to talk about this; whatever this is. Maybe part of him, at least unconsciously, wanted to come here to clear the air between them. Scully has been edgy for a while now, at least since their return from Antarctica. Their reassignment and Diana’s presence, their undisclosed past, haven’t helped matters much. Though Mulder isn’t sure either of these things is the reason for her distant behavior.

“Go ahead,” Scully makes a dismissive hand gesture, “You’ve got 20 minutes until bed time.” There’s a remark on his tongue, but this time he swallows it, nods, and joins little Hannah in the living room. The girl grins at him. Ten minutes ago she didn’t even know him and now she’s reaching out her hands, grabbing for him. If only he had that same effect on her aunt. Mulder sits down on the floor next to Hannah and carefully touches the still unfinished space ship.

“Something is missing.” She tells him, slightly stumbling on her ’s’-sounds. “I don’t know what.” Mulder pretends to examine the space ship closely, making the girl giggle. He takes a few of the bricks and puts them in her hand. Hannah watches him closely as he builds a small attachment on the roof of the rectangular shaped ship.

“What is it?” Hannah leans over, her long hair falling all around her face. Mulder reaches out and as the child turns to him, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“An entrance,” he explains, “You have to have someone fly the space ship, right?” Hannah nods happily. “See? That’s how your pilot can get in.”

“Or the alien.” Hannah reminds him.

“Or the alien.” Mulder agrees with a smile.

“Hannah,” Scully’s voice is gentle and as Mulder lifts his head, sees her soft expression, he can’t help but wonder how long she’s been standing there. “Come on, you’ve got to get ready for bed.”

“But-”

“The space ship will still be there tomorrow.” Hannah hesitates, her small hand still holding a few bricks.

“And Mulder? Will Mulder still be here tomorrow?”

“Come on now,” Scully urges her on and reaches out her hand. This time Hannah does as she’s told and follows along the hall, “You can say goodbye once you’re in your pajamas.”

Mulder gets up from the floor, his knees protesting quietly, and sits on the couch. They must have left the bathroom door open because he can hear them in there. Hannah is telling Scully all about space and the moon, aliens and monsters and Mulder has to grin.

“I like Mulder,” the girl says loudly; Mulder doubts that she’s aware he can hear them out here, “Why doesn’t uncle Bill like him?”

“They didn’t meet under the best circumstances. You’re not done brushing your teeth yet, Hannah.”

“I’ll tell uncle Bill how great Mulder is at building space ships. He must like him then! You like him, right?” Mulder strains his ears; he knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop and he knows that Scully most likely won’t tell her niece what an asshole he is. At least he hopes she won’t. There’s plenty of time for that in the future. Once he’s out of Scully’s life, just a bleak memory, and when Hannah asks about him as a teenager – if she remembers him at all – she can tell him then. How he let her down and how he lets everyone down he loves. As long as she doesn’t do it now when Hannah still likes him, when she thinks he’s good at playing Legos.

“Aunty Dana? You like him, don’t you?”

“Yes, honey. I do like Mulder. I like him a lot.” Mulder wonders how much of that is true when he hears tiny feet running down the hall. Hannah jumps onto the couch and right into his side.

“Hey, be careful.” He starts tickling her and she screams in delight.

“Not fair, Mulder!” He lets go of her then, but she remains cuddled to his side, leaning against him.

“Tell Mulder goodnight, Hannah. He needs to go home, too.” The girl turns to him with an earnest expression.

“Is it almost past your bedtime, too?” She asks him and he nods solemnly.

“I hate bed time.” Hannah lets him know in a loud whisper.

“Me too.” He admits, quickly glancing up at Scully. “But you should listen to your aunt Dana. Remember what I told you earlier?”

“That she’s always right.”

“Exactly. So you better do as she says and go to bed.”

“But…” Her eyes fill with tears, “Can Mulder come back tomorrow?”

“Hannah… Mulder might have plans tomorrow.” Scully sighs and Mulder turns to look at her. He went to Antarctica for her; if she thinks he’s backing down when it comes to babysitting her adorable niece, they really need to have a talk.

“I’m still here tomorrow,” Hannah tells him excitedly, “Please don’t have plans tomorrow.”

“You know what,” Mulder leans closer to the little girl, “I promise I’ll talk to your aunt Dana about this if you go to bed now.” Hannah thinks it over for a moment, then nods, and wanders off. Scully stares after her, amazement apparent on her face. Mulder can’t help his smug grin.

“Well, my work here is done,” he says, getting up from the couch, “I better leave. You can tell Hannah whatever you like. Tell her…,” how much I hate this, he thinks, “tell her I do have plans. I’m sure you’ll come up with something plausible. I’ll see you on Monday.”

He’s halfway to the door when Scully stops him. “Mulder, wait.” He stops, but doesn’t turn around just yet.

“Do you want to spend the day with us tomorrow? Maybe not the whole day. I mean… however long you want. If you want.”

“What about you?” He’s facing her now and he wishes he could tell her how much he wants this. To spend the day with her and her adorable nice. To just be around her, talk to her, without fighting, without second-guessing each other. They don’t need the x-files. At least not for this. He wants to be with her any way he is allowed, any chance he gets.

“What about me? I’ll be there too.”

“No, I mean… do you want me to spend the day with you and Hannah?” His eyes plead with hers to just say yes. This is his olive branch until he figures out to tell her all the things he wants to say to her; until he figures out how to right whatever went wrong between them these last couple of months. Scully is taking her time answering and finally she sighs; a clear sign that she’s come to a decision.

“I’d really like it if you’d spend the day with us, Mulder. Hannah adores you.”

“And you like me.” If only he knew how to keep his mouth shut sometimes. He smiles sheepishly, basically admitting that he’s eavesdropped earlier. Scully’s earlier discontentment with him seems to have evaporated, though, and he receives a warm smile.

“And I like you. How about you come over for breakfast? Then we’ll figure out what to do.”

“I can’t wait, Scully.”

And that’s the truth.