Agua Mala
“Anyone for water?”
“No!”
Dales shrugged. “Mmm, well, in that case you’ve got your choice of scotch or, um… scotch.”
“You know what, thank you, Mr. Dales, but we really should be--”
Both men turned to gape at her, and Scully leveled a steady gaze back at each of them in turn until Dales threw back his head and laughed.
“I knew I liked this one,” he said once he’d recovered. “All right, then. Scotch all around.”
Mulder leaned toward her. “You always keep me guessing,” he murmured, and she couldn’t help grinning in response.
“Mulder, after the night we just had, I wouldn’t think it’s that surprising that I’m not opposed to the idea of a drink.”
Dales came limping back toward them, the three glasses precariously balanced between his hands. Scully rose to help, and Mulder quickly followed. Dales nodded his thanks as they took their drinks, and he raised his own glass.
“To whatever brought the two of you together.” Scully snuck a glance at Mulder; his lips quirked sideways in a partially-suppressed smile. Dales cleared his throat before continuing. “You know I… I’ve been around a long time. Went through my share of partners at the Bureau, let me tell you. And this--” He gestured with his glass between the two of them. “--this is something you don’t see every day.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Mulder’s voice was a low rumble beside her, and as she raised her glass to clink it against the other two, Scully couldn’t ignore the swooping in her stomach, a warmth blossoming there before she’d even taken a sip of alcohol.
