Mulder leant over your shoulder as you worked, standing over a body you were autopsying. He was rambling about the academy and how they thought he was weird and called him spooky. As you finish the autopsy and pull off your gloves and mask, you turn to him.

“Was there a point to all that?” You ask, throwing the bloody gloves in the bin. He steps forward, invading your space.

“Are you scared of me?”