The ebb and flow of conversation relaxes the overwrought lunatic. This is his team; they could get through any situation with Hannibal leading them, even the twisting insanities of his baby sister and all of her sometimes conflicting goals.
Murdock settles more into his spot on the ground, his back carefully to the gurney that holds his sibling, the thought being, he'd know she was coming, somehow he always does and they would never injure him, intentionally anyway.
"Of course toast points!" the pilot cries, throwing his hands in the air.
A thin, scarred hand snakes out of the shadows and grasps Murdock's fingers. Not one of them had heard the woman slip from such heavy restraints. Hannibal stiffens at the thought of so skilled an escape artist but tries to continue with the easy banter the team exchanges.
Murdock clasps the hand from the darkness and his sibling forward into the flickering glow of the camp lights. Not only has she escaped the gurney but she left behind her medic's costume as well. Sophie Murdock is lean and wiry with corded muscles running along her arms and legs just like her brother. Dressed only in too large boxers and a stained tank top, she twirls gracefully and settles smoothly into her brother's lap.
Face has to keep his jaw from hitting the floor at the sight of the intense scarring that runs rampant over her skin. What was visible on her hands and face was only a fraction of the intricate webs of fine lines and random ugly keloids that trace her limbs.
"Morning, Jammy," she says, her voice tinged with sleep as she reclines into her brother to be cradled like a child.
"Hello, Dolly," Murdock replies, a heart-breaking, warm smile spreads over his face, watching his sister carefully while she holds up his bandaged hand for inspection.
The pilot returns to the conversation with his teammates, swaying gently with his sister in his arms. They had been trying to determine the plausibility of convincing the General to postpone their mission using the same techniques employed on B.A., Murdock's coconut curry tapenade.
"Are we go for Mission Curry?" the pilot asks, looking over his friends.
"I don't see why we can't use the Antifreeze Marinade," Face puts in, "a little partial paralysis for the General might help our cause."
"Ha! I don't know if it's guaranteed paralysis, though, it might just be you, Lieutenant," Hannibal laughs.
"This is bad," Dolly says, her head leaning against Murdock's chest. She points determinedly at his bandaged hand.
"Bosco, can you hand me the med kit?" Murdock asks, disentangling his hand from Dolly's probing fingers.
"You sure about that, Captain?" the Colonel interjects.
"Oh yeah, Dolly's quite the surgeon," HM says, "She can put people together as easily as she takes them apart."
B.A. hesitates at the statement but Dolly is quick, she snatches the small kit from his hand and dumps the contents onto her stomach, laying back into Murdock's embrace.
"Dolly," he reprimands.
Her eyes flick from Murdock to B.A. "Thank you," she says in a small voice and returns her attention to her brother's wounded hand. Deftly, she unwinds the bandage, turning the hand this way and that, nimble fingers pinch and explore the punctures in Murdock's flesh.
"Ow!" the pilot jerks.
"Sissy," she responds, pulling his hand back to the light, picking through the various medical items resting on her belly.
Hannibal's eyes narrow, taking in all of the implications of this new information. He watches the precise, quick movements of the younger Murdock cleaning and redressing the vicious bite in his pilot's hand.
Faceman and B.A. chuckle at their friend's whining.
"Kiss the booboo," Dolly sings and showers the fresh bandage with smooches.
"All better. Thanks, baby doll," Murdock says to his sister, rocking with her again. His hand rests gently over her face, the edge of her smile just visible under his palm.
Face smiles at the easy comfort between the Murdock siblings. 'How rare were these calm moments?' he wonders.
Hannibal's mind, on the other hand, is racing. 'Did she survive her execution to become an asset? Is she really too unstable to bring with us on this mission? Why didn't the MP's storm the tent when she was playing banshee? Who knows she's here?' Round and round the questions go, all he can do is speculate. There is no guaranteed way of getting a straight answer out of either Murdock, especially if Sophie's various personalities and psychoses are the origin of HM's own split with reality. One thought in particular circles louder and louder through Hannibal's head, 'Who is Simon?'
Now is not the time, though. Morning is approaching and with it, a briefing with the General.