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Sartorially Speaking

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 “I can feel you lurking in the doorway, Scully.” 

“Are you going to stay holed up in your office all day?”

“I’m just finishing an article about a yeti sighting at a ski resort in Spain and then I’m all yours.” 

“Okay...Mulder, what is Daggoo wearing?” 

“A Bowie concert tee, circa 1972. Ziggy Stardust.” 

“Where did you get that?” 

“Amazon.” 

“Amazon. Of course.” 

“Isn’t it great? I also got him a Breaking Bad one that says, ‘Science, Bitch!’”

“He already chewed up that ‘Eat the Rude’ one you bought him. Why do you keep buying him stuff when you know he’s just going to ruin it?” 

“Scully, you know better than anyone that some things are unexplainable.” 

“I’m really regretting giving you that Echo and Amazon Prime for Christmas. Poor Raul the UPS guy trekking out here every day to keep up with your shopping addiction. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if you and he have got something going on.” 

“Raul brings me things, yes. But Scully, you know my affection can’t be bought. It has to be earned.”

“Over years and years and years and years and years--”

“Ouch.”

“So I’m not going to have to sue Jeff Bezos for alienation of affection?” 

“Ooh alienation, Scully?” 

“You know very well what the definition of alienation is, and it has nothing to do with EBEs.” 

“I know. Sometimes I just like to see you roll your eyes.” 

“Oh God. What are you wearing?” 

“My new shirt. Sasquatch in a cowboy hat riding Nessie like a horse. It’s great, right?” 

“It’s—so stupid.” 

“Yee Haw! In the review section on Amazon some guy tried to make a tasteless Brokeback Mountain joke. I swear in this political climate the homophobes are really coming out of the woodwork.” 

“They could not be together. Do I need to explain to you the physiological impossibilities of those two coupling?” 

“Scully, I can’t believe it, you said they.” 

“I’m saying ‘they’ in a theoretical sense.” 

“I’m ashamed of you. You’re a bigot.” 

“I’m not! They’re in two completely separate taxonomic classes—I—I’m not having this argument.” 

“Well, don’t worry, I put Amazon member bassfishingislife77 in his place.”

“Did you get into a fight in the customer reviews section again?!” 

“Not a fight exactly, I just shared a brief 47 point essay on the existence of cryptids in North America.” 

“Oh my God.” 

“And possibly the link for a Love is Love beer koozie. And hey! You’re one to judge my shirt. Look at you wearing that sweatshirt of lies.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Your shirt says 100% Human. You and I both know that’s a blatant falsehood.”

“Mulder—” 

“That is exactly the kind of shirt someone with alien DNA—for surewould wear to hoodwink the general population.”

“I bought it because part of the proceeds go to Equality Now.”

“It’s still a lie. I wish you’d remove that offending garment.”

“You have a lot of nerve calling this an offending garment. It’s not like your shirt did anything to contribute to the rights of girls and women.” 

“My shirt is all about cryptid awareness. And their rights. Don’t roll your eyes.”

“Sorry.”

“Your sweatshirt offends me on several levels.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes. First of all, the blatant dishonesty. Second, you’re not wearing so much as a bra under said shirt and it’s obscuring my view. Third, it’s far too warm in here for fleece. And fourth, I don’t have a fourth, but I’d like you to take it off anyway.” 

 “I’ll take it off if you feed me.” 

“Alexa, order a pizza.” 

“Pizza sounds good.” 

“God, I love her. She does everything I ask.” 

“Should I be jealous?” 

“I dunno, Scully, you’ve got a genius level IQ but she knows everything, can play music and order me a pizza.” 

“I can Google, open Spotify and I can place a call to Domino’s.” 

“Yeah, but she does it without comments about my cholesterol.” 

“Mulder, I’m a medical doc—“ 

“Alexa play Walking in Memphis by Cher.” 

“Mulder—“ 

“Dance with me, Scully.” 

“I’m not dancing with you while you’re wearing that ridiculous shirt.” 

“Well, I’m not dancing with you while you’re cloaked in dishonesty.” 

“Fine.” 

“Ahh, skin to skin. Much better.”

“Ouch. You’re crushing my toes.”

“Sorry.”

“I forget how much I love this song.”

“Scully, in the interest of extending this romantic interlude I would like you to note how I am refraining from making any comments about topless dancing.” 

“I appreciate that, Mulder, I really do. Lose the pants.”