[Scully, who's heard plenty stranger, smiles to herself.]
I have a friend back home who'd say that's a matter of power and the willingness to use it towards a moral end.
[He'd say it archly, loftily, with a brightness in his eyes that would betray it for the joke that it is, a needling at the edges of her rigid insistence upon the need for evidence, for some modicum of the quantifiable. And though she's perfectly capable of speaking philosophically, she'd play the devil's advocate, and together they'd pass the time. There's a difference, though, between what is said and what is believed.]
Of course, he'd probably also say that no real person could ever achieve that kind of perfect moral balance, that we're too absorbed in our own concerns and our own ambitions. What I can't work out is why they'd take that risk.
[She looks at him as though anticipating an answer, as though she's used to being half of a pair, not just thinking on her own but reaching conclusions collaboratively. There's an expectation of response, explicit or unspoken, in the way her eyes flick over his features.]
I didn't have to hear you say it; I mean, there's got to be something more going on here than they're letting on. Nobody could be that stupid.
[She says it with conviction, trying to convince herself as much as him that there's a purpose for her here beyond that outlined by their captors, something to investigate. After a brief pause she sighs frustratedly, giving a vague gesture of the hand.]
Or maybe I'm just getting paranoid. I don't know.
[Maybe she's spent too much time around Mulder... but then, she's here. If there were ever a time to be paranoid, this would be it.]
no subject
I have a friend back home who'd say that's a matter of power and the willingness to use it towards a moral end.
[He'd say it archly, loftily, with a brightness in his eyes that would betray it for the joke that it is, a needling at the edges of her rigid insistence upon the need for evidence, for some modicum of the quantifiable. And though she's perfectly capable of speaking philosophically, she'd play the devil's advocate, and together they'd pass the time. There's a difference, though, between what is said and what is believed.]
Of course, he'd probably also say that no real person could ever achieve that kind of perfect moral balance, that we're too absorbed in our own concerns and our own ambitions. What I can't work out is why they'd take that risk.
[She looks at him as though anticipating an answer, as though she's used to being half of a pair, not just thinking on her own but reaching conclusions collaboratively. There's an expectation of response, explicit or unspoken, in the way her eyes flick over his features.]
I didn't have to hear you say it; I mean, there's got to be something more going on here than they're letting on. Nobody could be that stupid.
[She says it with conviction, trying to convince herself as much as him that there's a purpose for her here beyond that outlined by their captors, something to investigate. After a brief pause she sighs frustratedly, giving a vague gesture of the hand.]
Or maybe I'm just getting paranoid. I don't know.
[Maybe she's spent too much time around Mulder... but then, she's here. If there were ever a time to be paranoid, this would be it.]