As Scully entered the X-Files office she was surprised to find Mulder at his desk behind the large typewriter that sat usually sat abandoned in the corner. Her partner was gazing intently at a single sheet of paper as he chewed slowly on a sunflower seed. A slight grimace crossed her face, knowing that when Mulder got thinking too hard he tended to leave little piles of shells around the office.
"New case, Mulder?" Scully asked carefully.
"Huh?" Mulder blinked several times and his eyes seem to clear. A little boy's smile crossed his face, looking like he had gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar. "I was just writing."
"Writing?"
"Well, I was thinking," He paused a moment to crunch down on a sunflower seed. "If Jose Chung can make a novel out of one of our cases, why couldn't I?"
"Because he's a writer and you're an FBI agent?" Scully suggested as gently as possible.
"Oh yeah?" Mulder cranked the paper out of the typewriter and handed it to Scully. "What do you think?"
"As the dancers spun and weaved around the fire, their chanted prayers rose to the heavens on the fragrant smoke." Scully read the single sentence out loud and then nodded slightly. "Not bad."
"Not bad?" Mulder frowned. "That's it?"
"Well...it's sort of an abstract sentence."
"It's the first sentence." He pointed out. "The next few sentences will make it sound better."
"Then where are the next few sentences?" Scully rose an red eyebrow.
"The thing is..." Mulder winced slightly. "It really is hard to write a novel."
"Especially when you haven't written anything but FBI case reports for the past ten years." Scully smirked slightly and sat down on the edge of Mulder's desk. "Face it Mulder, you should keep your day job."