Mulder doesn't think there's anything wrong with being straight-laced, and he hates it when Zito uses it like an insult. The touseled pitcher offers Mulder a hit off his pipe, not from any sense of comraderie, but because he knows Mulder will refuse. No matter how many times they act out this exchange Zito never seems to grow tired of it. The dark-eyed pitcher will say:

"Here man, have a go, this is excellent shit JD's brought,"

extending his hand toward Mulder with the pipe pinched between three fingers, an eager-bright gleam in his eyes. And Mulder, without even glancing at the offering, will sigh and patiently explain:

"No thanks, man, I don't smoke,"

for the thousandth time and fold Zito's arm back towards its owner, all the while knowing what comes next. Zito will grin at him goofily, all hyper-amused puppylike good will, and tease:

"You're such a square, man, for real, you're so straight-laced,"

throwing his arm around Mulder's shoulders and laughing into his ear. Sometimes if it's been a good night and both pitchers are feeling particularly loose Zito will cover Mulder's mouth with his own and share the rank-sweet taste of weed, the roll of smoke pushing at the back of his tongue, so that when he breathes out hard it escapes from the kiss in little tendrils of smoke around their faces.