House of Quentin. Quentin's sitting on the stoop, playing a guitar and singing "Cat's Cradle," and crying about his poor dead dad. Actually, he so is not. He totally doesn't care anymore. Trevor comes gallumping up to the door, and after some bully/bullee repartee, breathlessly tells his former Arch Enemy that he knows who killed his dad; the six-fingered man. Almost. Actually, he says no more, but just watches Trevor gulp.
Commercial time! I eat a healthy dinner of Spagetti-os, Doritos (with Even Spicier Nacho Cheese!) and Diet Coke. And I wonder why I'm anemic and covered in vitamin deficiencies. But I just love the tiny concentric Spagetti-o's. They're so pretty and perfect, nestling one inside the other. It's like art.
Scully pores over papers at Mulder's desk in the Lush Basement Office. There's an alien head coffee mug on the edge of the desk, which totally cracks me up. That's the most subtle thing I've seen on this show in weeks. She looks up from her rummaging through the paper work to see Chuck Burke in the doorway. She pops up, thanking him for coming back. He begins to wonder, gently, why she's been calling him, and Mulder hasn't been...Scully totally ignores him, and jumps in, telling him that she's been trying to see this case the way Mulder would, but she just can't. Does Chuck know what the deal is with Mulder, or is he in the dark, here? Why am I still wondering what's going on here? I need to just go with the flow, right? Flow. Flow. Scully tells Chuck that she can't imagine why an ascetic mystic would be using his powers for evil, if they're such a religious bunch. Chuck agrees that a mystic would consider murder a danger to their immortal soul. Earth to Chuck: even run-of-the-mill religious folk believe that. It's not like they don't believe in drinking water, or something. Scully wonders what would cause a mystic to break faith. Chuck doesn't know. Revenge? Maybe. Scully runs down her theory, which involves the tale of an American chemical plant in a village outside Bombay which inadvertently released a whole bunch of crazy bad gas, the name of which I can not spell, and accidentally killed one hundred eighteen indigenous Indian folk. One victim was an eleven-year-old boy, whose father was a well-known holy man. I think we all see where this is going, and now I need to take a nap. Scully wonders if this holy man could be out for revenge. Chuck supposes so, but asks, if that is the case, why he's killing the people he's killing. Scully makes a face like she never thought of that really obvious question. God bless Chuck.