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Mmm, fair enough. I lived north of the border back on Earth, so luckily the FBI wasn't a big concern for me.

[that's right folks he's ✨🍁canadian🍁✨

David makes an involuntary, choked-off sound in response that very questionable zinger.]

Wow. Good— great to know. [Is Mulder hitting on him? It kind of feels like he's hitting on him. David tends to assume by default that people are into him, so that's what he's going with. What the fuck is going on. He flusters for a second before marching back into the living room, yelling back at Mulder:]

Coffee table!

Hold on a sec.

[ See, that noise means Mulder won, on a level he can't dignify with any real acknowledgement. Should he be embarrassed of his behavior? Probably. Is he? Nah, Scully doesn't know he's playing the 'harass a man who bought me furniture' game.

Once he's got the last leg in its place, he settles the (admittedly great looking) bed right side up and wanders back into the living room. ]

All right, let's see it.

[By the time Mulder makes it back out into the living room, David has reigned in his dignity and is all business, unwrapping a large, round parcel which is quickly revealing itself to be a brass metal coffee table with a glass top, bundled up heavily in polystyrene.

He has also, tellingly, cracked open one of those beers.]

I really outdid myself on this one. It's got storage underneath, and it's glass so you don't need to worry about coasters.

Finally, a place for all my coffee-table books.

[ It's...nice, actually. He probably wouldn't have picked out metal, but the shiny gold colour looks pretty good in here. And it makes as good a place to stash his latest esoterica as anywhere else.

Since Rose has a beer open, he takes that as a sign to get one of his own. While he's doing that - ]

So how's this compare to your place?

Mmm, whatever you want. [The idea of relocating to an alien planet and immediately beginning to stock up on coffee table books is hilarious, though. He tosses all the padding and plastic into the existing pile on the floor.]

Oh, my place? [David laughs.] Well, I've been here a year, so it's much more lived-in, for one. I've had a chance to really curate my space from scratch, which has been nice. I'd say I went for a more...eclectic vibe.

What counts as eclectic?

[ He's not helping with the table. Something about the idea of working together on a piece of furniture that doesn't need it feels like giving in - losing, somehow, the same way keeping the guy off his axis feels like winning. Instead, he's looking at the other stuff wrapped up in here, starts pulling the wrapping off what looks like a little dining table. ]

Oh, you know. A lot of texture. Mixed textiles, thrifted pieces, lots of art. Nothing too matchy-matchy, but still cohesive.

[He talks like someone who has read a lot of books and articles about interior design, because he has. He pauses in his mission to rid the coffee table of its foam and plastic prison to take a drink of his beer.]

Normally I'm not a beer guy, but this isn't bad, actually.

Let me guess: You drink wine.

[ This isn't sarcastic, believe it or not. Setting his own beer on his new dining table - what was that about coasters? - he balls up some plastic and freethrows it neatly into the kitchen trash can. He shoots, he scores. ]

So this stuff. What would you call it? Design-wise.

Or gin. Or vodka.

[Tequila if he's in the mood to make bad decisions, but thankfully those days are largely behind him.]

Mmm, most of this I'd call 'mid-century modern', which is wild because we're on a completely different planet. Most of the design here seems stuck firmly in Art Deco, which, don't get me wrong. It has a place. But I'd never do someone's entire place in Art Deco.

[He shrugs, sips his beer.] Looks too matchy-matchy.

[ Mulder, meanwhile, is enough of a lightweight - despite his size - to mostly stick to beer. Gotta be sober or your UFO sighting doesn't count. ]

Interesting. See, when I picture the middle of the twentieth century - that's the one we're talking about, right? - I'm picturing a lot more lamps that look like vases and heavy chintz drapes.

[ Is he describing his childhood home, don't worry about it. ]

Oh, mmhmm, that's the one. [David leans against the still-wrapped sofa.] Hence the addition of modern. In 2016 it's all the range. Clean lines with all the, um, chintz.

[He pats the arm of the sofa.] Ready to move this baby into place?

So if I don't like it, wait twenty years.

[ Which is less a commentary on what he thinks of the place, and more the neatness of the numbers - he just showed up from 1996. Whether that's evident is hard to say, though; everything he says sounds deadpan at this point.

Anyway, the couch. He gets to the other side of it. ]

Okay, which wall?

[A grim little smile.] Exactly. God, it's so weird that you and Dana are from the nineties. I was, like nine years old in your time.

[He nods his head toward the space under the window.]

Right over there. One, two, three—

[Thankfully the sofa is not as heavy as it could be. It is, however, upholstered in a very nice taupe-y velvet.]

You're making me feel old, Rose. Next thing, you'll tell me you weren't born 'til after the Beatles broke up.

[ The very idea of a velvet couch is baffling to him. He can't bring himself to hate it, if only because it feels great under his hands, but who the hell owns a velvet couch? Outside of great-aunts living in houses too large for them, houses full of the kinds of antiques their relatives don't actually want to inherit. ]

These are really 'in' once you hit 2016?

[ He sounds dubious. ]

Um, 1987. But my dad's actually, like, really good friends with Ringo, so.

[Just a casual namedrop while he relishes making Fox Mulder feel old. David hums thoughtfully.]

Mmm, sort of? But I prefer to dictate trends rather than follow them.

1987? You could be my kid.

[ He was at Quantico in 1987. He's pretty sure his partner'd already taken Einstein to task for his theory of relativity. Too bad he's from 1996, or he could call Scully a cougar. ]

And the trend you have in mind here is 'I inherited Great-Aunt Minerva's furniture.'

Oh, your eyebrows aren't nearly imposing enough to be my father.

[He scowls at the insult to his taste, wrinkling his nose.]

Um, I think you meant to say timeless investment pieces. Which is what they are, thank you.

You're right, they don't take up half my face.

[ Lightly said, but all the same, his desire to be nice to Scully's friend (with benefits) is, uh. Waning. ]

Hey, Great-Aunt Minerva's furniture held up, I'm not denying that. I just don't see a lot of velvet, where I'm from.

Mmm. Hilarious.

[He's so clever. So very clever. David's heard it all, and it doesn't really faze him anymore. He happens to like his strong brows, thanks very much!]

Well, you're from a time that was tragically lacking in a lot of places, aesthetically speaking, so I can hardly blame you. Would you rather I put in a nice orange plaid sofa? Throw a granny square afghan over the top?

[You know, really go full Roseanne on it.]

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