Heat
Mulder's smirking like the cat that caught the canary. "Don't say anything," Zito warns, holding one hand up palm-out to forestall a smart ass remark. "Seriously, I'm not in the mood."
"Did I say anything?" Mulder asks sweetly, smiling. Zito turns on his best glare, which still looks too innocent and charming and sweet. Even on the he's not as intimidating as Mulder or Hudson. He's too affable, too laid-back. Like his curve ball: slow and rolling, but impossible to figure out. Mulder grins.
"You've gotta show me fastball sometime," Mulder laughs, ducking Zito's playful swing.