Mulder: Hey, morning, sunshine.
(There is a repetitive banging sound from Mulder’s end. He speaks loudly to compensate.)
Scully: Mulder?
Mulder: Yeah. I was a little worried about you. I was wondering if you needed my help up there.
Scully: Needed your help on what?
Mulder: I left you a message at the motel. You didn’t get it?
Scully: I was up and out this morning. Mulder?
Mulder: Yeah?
Scully: What’s that noise? Where are you?
Mulder: I’m at home. They’re doing construction right out the window. Hold on a second. (To imaginary construction workers) Hey fellas! Can you just keep it down for a second, maybe? (He bounces his basketball twice more and tosses it away from him. It crashes into some piece of furniture. Mulder pauses then picks up phone again.) Thank you. (to Scully) Yeah, hey. I was - I was thinking about this case. You know, maybe it’s not witchcraft after all. Maybe there’s a scientific explanation.
Scully: A scientific explanation?
Mulder: Yeah, a medical cause. Something called chorea.
Scully: Dancing sickness.
Mulder: Yeah, St. Vitus’s dance. (Mulder opens his refrigerator. It contains absolutely nothing besides a jug of orange juice.) It affect groups of people causing unexplained outbursts of uncontrollable jerks and spasms. (Mulder takes a swig of the juice straight from the bottle. )
Scully: Yeah, and hasn’t been diagnosed since the Middle Ages.
Mulder: (Mulder makes a face at the taste of the juice and looks at the date on the bottle. OCT. 97) Oh. (Spits juice back into bottle.) You’re obviously not a fan of American Bandstand, Scully.
Scully: Mulder?
Mulder: Yeah?
Scully: Thanks for the help.
