Scully stomps into Kersh's anterior office. Gillian Anderson's body language here is brilliant. First, she slogs out of the office, defeated, all slumpy-shouldered. Once in the hall, she's all, "What the fuck did I just do?" with her arms in the air. Then, she's like, "Shit," holding her hands to her temples. This segues into "How can I fix this?" and tapping her fingers together. "Wait, what am I thinking?" she murmurs to herself after a moment, getting out her cell phone. "What am I thinking?" she repeats, walking swiftly down the hall and almost running someone down in her haste to dial. "Sorry," she mutters. Ahead of her, the elevator empties out and she runs for it, prying the doors open and throwing herself inside. She presses the phone to her ear. "Come on, come on, come on, come on," she whispers, pacing the empty elevator. "Answer the phone, Mulder. Answer the phone, answer the phone, answer the phone." Scully gently beats her head against the wall. "The cellular customer you are trying to reach is not responding," an automated voice tells her. Scully angrily hangs up. "Damn!" she says.
The elevator expels her into the basement. She stalks down the hallway and into the LBO, where Jeffery Spender is basking in his lovely smooth skin and attached, fully functional nose. "I want you to do me a favor. It's not negotiable. Either you do it, or I kill you, you understand?" Scully spits from the doorway before stalking into her old office. "You okay, Agent Scully?" Spender asks, hopping up a bit nervously. "No, I'm not. I'm a gun ready to go off. So don't test me, Spender -- don't even think about trying to weasel me," Scully snaps, getting all up in his face. "What do you need?" Spender asks carefully, like she's a tiny, vicious, rabid, wild animal. That can talk. Scully scribbles the AWACS information on a little scrap of paper while Spender looks furtively around the office for something he can use as a weapon if it comes to that. "I am looking for a boat. Maybe a ship. Nineteen-thirty-nine luxury liner," Scully spits. Spender makes some confused noises. "Don't ask too many questions," Scully tells him. "I don't care what you do, or who you do, or who you have to grease. I need that information and I need it now. Are we clear on that?" "Crystal," Spender mutters and starts to go. "Agent Spender?" Scully calls after him. "If you're not back in a hurry, I'm going to hunt you down and so help me God...." Spender backs toward the door. "Right," he says, and turns tail and runs. "Oh, God," Scully says to herself.