Murdock and Face got back to his family's farm at almost four in the morning, the captain having lingered in Anne's room at the Musgrove's house, waiting to make sure she was safely asleep before he left. He and Face walked, neither of them minding the chill in the air, and Face even admitted that he kind of enjoyed country life. "Not that I intend to settle in the country, mind you," he told the pilot as they went inside the house, pausing in the mudroom to kick off their shoes. "Vacations would be nice out here, though, I gotta say. The peace, the quiet, the lack of explosions…"

They trailed into the living room, both snickering about Hannibal's lack of stamina these days – the old man had looked exhausted when he'd left, and they both felt sort of sorry for him as they thought about it. He had been awake for a few days now, from what they could tell, and constantly going over plans to deal with Spencer Hawes – Hannibal liked to cover all his bases, and tried to always be two (or more) steps ahead of the enemy whenever possible. The problem, Face was pointing out as they went into the living room, was overkill. "Sometimes, Hannibal plans a bit too far ahead…that's all I'm sayin', man. Sometimes, he ends up stepping on his own feet…I think he needs a vacation, too. Some rest and relaxation…mai-tais on the beach, ogle some pretty girls…"

"Try and convince him of that," Murdock said wearily. "I've never seen him take a day off in the nine years I've known him." He noticed that the TV was on and turned to go shut it off, heard a slight noise and turned, tensing and ready for a fight with an intruder…except that he saw something far worse: Hannibal and Eve cuddled up on the couch, both sound asleep. The Colonel was on his back, and Eve was lying on top of him, curled up with her hair spread across his chest. His bare chest. "Oh. My. God!" Murdock yelped and almost fell back onto the TV.

Hannibal jerked, and Eve let out a small shriek of alarm and fell off, landing on her hands and knees on the floor. "Ouch…" She sat back, pulling her bathrobe closed before allowing Smith to help her to her feet. Face came rushing in, and his eyes widened before he started snickering, ducking his head and trying – without success – to cover his laughter. Hannibal, running his hands through his hair, stood up. Murdock looked down and rolled his eyes.

"Well, I see we've got six more weeks of winter!"

The embarrassed Colonel whirled around and zipped his pants. Eve glared at her stepson and the wide-eyed Lieutenant at his side.

"What?" she said, lifting her chin and giving them both a hard glare. "And before you start lecturing me, young man, you might…might realize it's…" She peered around him at the clock above the TV. "Four in the morning!"

"Yes. It is four in the morning. And I'm sorry, but at four in the morning, a guy doesn't expect to find his…his mother on top of…of…a guy! I never even caught you and Dad together, thank you gracious Lord Jesus! Like I don't already have enough mental health issues as it is!"

Eve sighed, dropping her head into her hand and rubbing her temples. Hannibal, still at a loss for words, finally stepped forward, attempting to look commanding and stern. That effect was ruined, however, but his state of undress, a lipstick stain on his jaw and a small but unmistakable hickey on his neck. He realized that his XO and the captain were both staring at it and began rubbing it, cheeks pinking.

"Ahem…well…it's way past lights out, boys," he said at last, in as crisp a voice as could be uttered by a man who had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

"Yes, you'd think that, wouldn't you?" Murdock snapped, annoyed and bewildered at once. "But I take it the lights have been on for the two of you for a while. When did this start?"

"Bogie," Hannibal muttered, looking a little sheepishly at Eve, who didn't look all that embarrassed.

"What? What's golf got to do with this?" Face asked, confused.

"We were watching a Bogart marathon," Eve said testily. "We just sort of started…and it was…we didn't…well, excuse me, but John and I are adults and hardly need your permission to…to…"

"Grope each other on the couch," Murdock finished for her. "John?"

"I have a hard time calling him Hannibal," Eve said. "It makes me think about elephants…and I don't like elephants."

Hannibal began rubbing his temples then. Apparently, that was a small bone of contention between them.

"Oh, speaking of groping, Murdock here has a date tonight!" Face said excitedly, nudging his friend, who looked like he might punch him in some place besides just his arm.

"With Anne, I take it," Eve said, giving her stepson a cool look.

"Wh-…what? How did you know about that?"

"Oh, please, I've known you were into her since she was sixteen. I would only have said something if I had believed you were doing anything improper, which you didn't, so I didn't even say anything to Ben about it." She lifted her chin.

"How the hell did you know about that?" Murdock shouted at her, horrified and embarrassed at once.

"Oh, please. I'm a woman." She straightened her bathrobe lapels a bit and glanced at Hannibal, who seemed to have pulled himself back together a bit and actually grinned.

"Yeah. Don't I know it."


"So Hannibal's boffing my stepmother and I'm going on a date tonight with a girl I was groping when she was sixteen," Murdock grumbled, pouring himself a cup of paint-stripper coffee. "A horny nutjob on his first date in years and a geriatric romance between my CO and my own stepmother. We're like characters in a Eugene O'Neill play."

"Aw, c'mon," Face shook his head. "I don't think they're knocking boots yet…and she was right, it's nobody's business but theirs…and I'd hardly say they were geriatric, Murdock. And Anne is ten years older now, so it's all legal if you do in fact decide to…uh…"

"Shut up," Murdock snapped.

"What, you're not thinkin' about it? Hell, I'm thinkin' about it!"

"If you're thinkin' about it with Anne, I will tear out your intestines and make you eat them. With secret sauce!"

"I am not. I'm thinkin' about it with Charissa, actually. Geez, I haven't seen her in two months. It's drivin' me crazy."

"Well…call her, then," Murdock muttered. He sat down at the table, opposite his best friend. "Meanwhile…meanwhile, where should I take Anne tonight?"

"To bed?" Face grinned, and only relented when he saw Murdock's nervous expression – the pilot was chewing on his lip and looking pensive. "Okay, okay…sorry. There's dinner, a movie, dancing…"

"Dancing? I only know the hokey-pokey and the Mashed Potato!"

"You really need to expand your horizons, buddy," Face said, clapping Murdock's shoulder as he got up. "I'll leave that up to you. Hey, you're not a total babe in the woods, Murdock. You know her likes, her dislikes, her…er…proclivities. So go from there. What does she like?"

"She likes the river, and…uh…stargazing, and…er…she likes old movies and drawing…and…" His brow furrowed. He couldn't exactly talk about the latest fashions with her. His idea of haute couture was a clean T-shirt and jeans with no holes in them.

"…making out with eccentric pilots…" Face grinned at him. "I knew of at least three women in Iraq alone that would have loved to have done that with you."

"Listen, are you trying to do, give me a freakin' stroke?"


Anne was struggling to keep from panicking. She had almost the entire day, however, to worry about her date with James and how things might go. She had a fairly good memory of him not only seeing her naked last night, but of him touching her rather intimately, and if that wasn't a precursor to how things might go tonight, she didn't know what would. Thus, she sat in the guest bedroom of Marie's house and stared at her choices in clothes and underwear.

No way was she going to consult Marie on this matter. Her sister apparently did not enjoy sex at all and would pick the Granny underpants and the Brassiere of Death for first date-wear. She thought briefly of calling Elizabeth, but nixed that idea before it could even take form – she would get snippy about Anne's choice in potential lovers, for one thing ("A Murdock?"), and would go from there. She pondered going downstairs and consulting with Mrs. Musgrove, but the old woman would probably either be embarrassingly open about such matters…or be horrifyingly open about such matters. She wasn't sure if she could take dating – much less sex – tips from a woman in her mid-eighties who had once said that for her honeymoon she had just gone upstairs and met the One-Eyed Monster for the first time and found him to be a rather pleasant fellow…once she figured out that that was what she was supposed to do.

She shuddered.

"Okay. You are a fashion designer. You once sold an entire spring wardrobe to Princess freaking Caroline of Monaco. You can do this!" She pulled on the lacy bikini panties – which felt a lot like body floss, now that she had them on – and the Victoria's Secret matching lace and silk bra and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Not bad – good muscle tone, flat tummy, really nice legs, cute little butt, nice skin without any appalling marks (just a small mole left of her navel, which James already knew about), and really very nice boobs. She had caught James looking at them more than once, that was for sure, and each time it had made her heart beat a little faster. Anybody else would have gotten a sound slap, after all.

Properly kitted out in her underclothes, Anne pondered what sort of outfit she should wear. Casual, maybe – a comfortable T-shirt and jeans, with deck shoes? It was fall, so white was out of the question, of course, so she began searching through the clothes she had brought from New York and finally found a pair of jeans with sequined pockets and tried them on – a bit tight, she had to admit. She searched for her favorite Navy blue slacks and decided they looked best with a nice boat-necked dark blue and white top. She put on her black deck shoes and checked herself out in the mirror.

She looked like a Navy cadet.

That would not do on a date with an Army Ranger. She sat down and looked at the phone. She had one last resource, and decided that she might as well kill two birds with one stone while she was at it.


Lily sat down and crossed her knees, observing Anne as the young woman modeled her outfit. "Okay, I like the top – black really does well with your coloring, but the sequined jeans are too tight. Go with the gray slacks."

"Right, right…" Anne snatched the pair of pants out of the closet and changed from the jeans – which had left imprints on her skin – into them. "How does this look?"

"Very good."

Anne eyed Lily for a moment, wondering what her friend was thinking. Lily had only nodded when informed that she was going out with James that night, and hadn't made any comments at all.

"So…um…what do you think about…about me going out with…James?" she asked cautiously.

"How old are you now?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Then it's fine, and I have no dog in the hunt any more. I wasn't against James, Anne. I never thought he was anything approaching a bad guy. In fact, he was always pretty sweet, even if he couldn't stand me."

"He couldn't stand you?" Anne was startled. "Really?"

"I think that if I had disappeared and was found months later in the trunk of a car at the bottom of a lake, he would have been what the police call a 'person of interest'."

"Really?" Anne sat down, stunned.

"Please…he really liked you…but I was still of the opinion that you were too young for marriage, and he held that against me. Maybe I was wrong, but…hey, I was just trying to look out for you, okay?" Lily shrugged. "You were nineteen, you had no mother, and your sisters weren't exactly great founts of wise and measured advice…granted, at the time, I was twenty-two and stupidly shacked up with a man who insisted on calling my breasts 'bazoombas', but you go with the information you have at the time."

"Oh…"

"You live and you learn. I'll still want to vet him properly, of course," Lily grinned. "'Course, I'd also love to conduct a series of tests on Lieutenant Peck, too…"

Anne couldn't keep from giggling. "He wasn't the guy you knew, from way back…?"

"No, no, that was another guy. A Lieutenant Thomas Warner. God, he was gorgeous, and so…nice. It just didn't work out, was all. Almost any man looks good in uniform, and it's funny – he was trained to kill, but he was as sweet and gentle a man as I've ever known. Funny how the military sends out men who can kill people and break things and yet are total gentlemen otherwise...military men, for the most part, are just…kinder. Protect the weak and defend the defenseless…then go kick ass for the U S of A…"

"Break 'em down, them build 'em up again," Anne nodded, remembering James's rather vague descriptions of his training. Her brow furrowed as she went into the bathroom and checked out her face for any signs of unfortunate eruptions or hairs that didn't belong. He hadn't ever said Army training…

"So…where are you two going?" Lily asked.

"I have no idea!"

"Then I suggest something chic and sexy, with a bit for the imagination. Forget the pants and the top. Wear that French print dress. Simple, classy, and easily removed if needed."


"Okay, button-down tailored shirt, check…" Face nodded, stepping back to look the nervous pilot over. "Casual sportscoat, fits almost perfectly, too… Nice chinos…but really, Murdock, Chuck Taylors?"

"I always wear Chucks!" Murdock snapped. "Boots hurt and I've yet to want anything to do with mandles."

"I wear mandles!" Face griped at him.

"Yeah, and I've seen you wear white after Labor Day, but did I jump all over you about it?"

"As a matter of fact you did, you big dope," Face grumbled. He had contemplated trying to get Murdock into a tie, but that would require roping Hannibal and maybe even B.A. and both of Murdock's brothers into the job to hold him down for the task. "It was an hour-long lecture on how one never wears white after Labor Day or velvet after Valentine's Day."

"Well, you shouldn't do either. And peacock feathers are bad luck, too, by the way."

Face rolled his eyes. He had scammed a place in L.A. a few months ago, and had put a vase of peacock feathers in one corner of the living room, which caused Murdock to declare that he would not enter the apartment until the feathers were gone. Murdock's case was made a few days later when Face's date had turned out to be a former man. Sometimes, he really hated it when the pilot was right, but he had gotten rid of the peacock feathers just the same.

"Okay, so where are you taking the fair Miss Elliott?"

"I dunno," Murdock shrugged. He got up and started digging around in his drawers for something. Face pondered and dug in his pockets until he found two condoms.

"Here, you might need these." Murdock turned back and saw the two packages and gave Face a hard glare. The conman grinned. "Hey, listen, I'm just sayin', okay? But anyway…how can you not have a plan, dude? You need a plan!"

"I don't plan. I just…let stuff happen." Murdock scratched the back of his neck, remembering the night he had actually proposed to Anne. He had carried that ring around in his pocket for almost a year, waiting until the right time (and she was of legal age of consent) before he had finally sat her down on a piling at the dock, dropped to his knee and asked her to be his wife. At the time, she had been very happy to say yes. He pushed away the pain and anger and humiliation of her change of heart a few weeks later. That was in the past, and he was more interested in the future now.

"Well, that may be the problem, man. You have to have some idea of where to go." Face rubbed his chin, thinking, and finally grinned. "I know where you can go! I think you could even get a good table, with the right credentials."

"I am not going to pretend to be a doctor again!" Murdock said. "Last time I did, I was asked to perform a tracheotomy on a choking bar patron! The man could have died if I hadn't been able to find a ball-point pen!"

"No, no, nothing like that. Ever been…an elected official before?"

"No, mainly because I'm not a drooling cretin who can't get a real job!"


Anne answered the door herself, and Murdock was immediately on alert when he saw her anxious expression. He peered around her and spotted that woman. His eyes narrowed, and immediately Lily raised her hands in the air. Anne glanced back at her friend, then back at him. "Hi," she finally managed.

"Hi. What the hell is she doin' here?" he asked mildly.

"Um…wardrobe consultation. Come on in, it's cold…"

"No, I'll stay here," he said, knowing he sounded sour. Hell, yes, he was sour. If it hadn't been for Lily Russell, he would have just celebrated ten years of marriage and might even have a kid or two. He glared at Lily, who looked suitably uncomfortable.

"Captain Murdock," she finally said, putting her hands down.

"Milly."

"Lily," she corrected.

"Don't give a damn. Anne, are you ready to go?"

"Listen, the two of you need to bury the hatchet," Anne said. "It was ten years ago, and it's all water under the bridge…"

"I'll bury the hatchet, definitely," Murdock said, in an acid sweet voice, and mumbled "In her skull."

"James," Anne said again, more softly this time. He flinched at the sight of her distress, and exhaled.

"Okay, okay…fine. Whatever, Tilly."

"Lily. And I think I should tell you that I had nothing against you personally back then, or now. I was only looking out for Anne."

"Yeah. Whatever. So I'll release you from that curse I put on you ten years ago, and can assure you that eventually the burning sensation will cease and the men you date will stop calling your breasts 'bazoombas'."

Lily's eyes widened, and Anne looked back at her, eyebrows up. James finally presented his arm to Anne, who took it. He surprised her by giving her a quick but sweet kiss that left her slightly dizzy. Lily watched them leave, a little nonplussed by James's attitude, but not surprised by it. She shut the door and contemplated sitting down by the fire to wait for Anne to return home, but decided it wasn't her business any more. Anne's life was her own now, and that was that. She started laughing as she headed up the stairs – she suspected that if and when Anne returned home tonight, her dress would be on inside out and she would be grinning from ear to ear.


"An expert pilot," James told Anne as he helped her into the passenger seat of the tiny Cessna Face had 'borrowed' for him, "uses his expertise to avoid getting into situations where his expertise would be required." Once he was sure she was strapped in safely, and having given her legs a proper ogling, he climbed into the pilot's seat, checked the dials, started up the engine and started easing the little plane toward the runway.

"Why does that statement fill me with a certain degree of dread?"

"Aw, now, honey don't worry," he said. He turned on the horn. "This is…er…Congressman Billingham's charter niner-niner four-oh-seven-three moving out to runway nine. Need ETA on clearance."

Anne stared at him, and he gave her a sickly smile.

"You should be out in ten minutes, sir," crackled a voice from the tower.

"Very good." He switched off the horn and tried to avoid making eye contact with Anne, who continued to stare at him.

"Congressman?" she finally said.

"Er…well…see, I'm takin' you someplace special…in Houston, see…and….well, Facey got me this little puddlejumper on very short notice and Congressman Billingham's a big environmentalist, see, so it's not gonna matter to him. He rails against gas consumption by the unwashed masses and travels in a personal jet and Humvees himself…so a little jaunt to Houston is no skin off his back…"

"My sister voted for the son of a bitch," Anne muttered. "She'll be gratified to know I'm dating him. And where are we going in Houston?"

"Livestock Show an' Rodeo?"

"That's already been and gone," she said.

"Oh. Right. You know, my father and my mother…my birth mother…saw Elvis there one year. Hard to believe, huh? I mean, Elvis…"

"James…"

"It's just a nice restaurant. Plus some other stuff. Are you impressed yet?"

"I'm somewhere between impressed and terrified. What happens when someone finds out you're not Congressman Billingham?"

"With any luck to his constituents, an ethics trial and removal from office. Hey, if Weiner can get forced out office for not even actually havin' sex – while also being a complete jerk - that sleazy prick can get forced out for not even actually takin' a plane trip to Houston!"


Face dropped down beside B.A., who was staring at the monitors and looking just a bit bug-eyed. "Hey, need a break, big guy?"

"I've seen mice in the barn, thousand of crickets, an armadillo, a few rabbits…big excitement yesterday, though! I saw a possum!" B.A. told him, sounding just a little manic. "I gotta get outta here or I'm gonna be crazier than Murdock!"

"Right. Hey, go on to town for a bit. There's one bar…you might find yourself some companionship for the evening, eh?" Face dug around in his pack for the sandwich he had brought and extracted it. Murdock had whipped up the tuna fish salad and had slapped the sandwich together before he had left, and Face took a grateful bite, tasting mild tuna, egg, Hellman's mayo, a bit of cayenne pepper, and dill. "Have some fun…just don't have too much fun, okay?"

"I'm gonna run over ever' damed 'dillo I see!" B.A. muttered, leaving the 'command center' (an upstairs bedroom at The Shallows) and heading downstairs. Face checked his infrared camera and binoculars, and scanned the screens. He observed B.A. getting into the van and driving away, then settled in for a long night.


Things weren't going too badly, really. The table was at a window overlooking Galveston Bay, and the lights reflecting on the water were very pretty. Houston was not anybody's idea of a really beautiful city, but the bay in late fall was quiet and free of yachters and tourists, and the boardwalk was largely deserted. Murdock planned to just walk along the line of shops facing the water and wrap the evening up on a small beach he knew about, sitting on a blanket and looking up at the stars.

The only unpleasant thing so far was people calling him Congressman all the time…and the violinist.

He eyed the musician as he wandered around the restaurant, playing various romantic-sounding tunes. Anne didn't appear to mind, though, so he drew in his breath and looked across the table at her. God, she was beautiful. Just like always. He hadn't been prepared to see her a few days before, and still regretted his rude behavior toward her, and now he hoped to make up for it somehow.

"How did you like your supper?" he asked.

"Oh, it was delicious," she said with a smile. "I'm not used to lobster."

"Neither am I," he said, shrugging. He hated lobster, actually. He didn't believe in macroevolution – the very idea of being told that he was related to some damned monkey was, in his mind, utterly insulting – but when he had read an article some time ago that intimated that cockroaches and lobsters were related, he didn't have much trouble agreeing. He also didn't like crab or really any kind of crustacean or seafood. Catfish was about as far as he could go, and maybe bass or croppy. And fishsticks. The prices on the menu had been enough to make him get a little woozy, but he was going to send the bill to Congressman Billingham. He had ordered salmon, and it was fairly good, but he didn't eat much of it. He was too busy staring at Anne and giving the violinist warning looks when he got too close.

"This is really nice, James, but you didn't have to go to so much trouble. A walk by the river and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich would have been fine. But I am having a good time. It's not every day a girl gets flown to dinner."

"Well, I figured you might like a little style."

She laughed. "So…what have you been doing these past ten years?"

"Gettin' shot at for the red white and blue. Blowin' stuff up. That kinda thing."

"And then getting framed…"

He nodded.

"You…weren't mistreated at that hospital in Germany, were you?" she asked him, looking anxious.

"Not really. No. No, I wasn't." He would save information about the ECT sessions for later.

Anne's fingers brushed his, and he returned her smile. Just then, the violinist came closer. She ignored the man, and leaned forward. "I missed you so much, James. I thought about you a lot, you know. I worried about you…when I heard you had been captured a few years ago, in…Egypt, was it? I was terrified…"

"I wasn't having a great time myself," he nodded, and glanced at Antonio Stradavarius, as he was now calling the violinist, who was now even closer and playing more loudly.

"Did they hurt you?" she asked softly.

"Eh…few bumps and bruises. Nothing serious."

Antonio was closer. Murdock, who didn't care for classical very much, still recognized 'Air on a G-String', which he had heard once before, having been dragged to a concert by Face. At the time, he had thought the tune had something to do with a stripper, but instead it had been boring music played by guys that looked like his father's dentist.

"I'm so glad you're all right, James," Anne told him. "I just…wonder if you can forgive me…"

"Sure I forgive you, baby," he said, leaning forward and giving Antonio a sharp look. But he was heavy into the G string now, making flourishing motions as he played. "What did you do?"

"I did disappoint you. You were so angry, and hurt…"

"Er…yeah, I was pretty mad, but I probably wasn't in any state of mind to get married anyway and you were pretty young and…" He suddenly moved, striking so quickly that the violinist was caught totally off guard when James snatched his bow away from him and threw it across the room, where it landed near the dessert cart. The violinist made a couple of grabs for the instrument, but in vain, and after huffing, straightening his lapels and giving James a sour look, turned and stalked off. James settled back into his seat and looked at her again before nodding, "…it was hardly the best of times for either of us."

"You were hurt, though," she said, glancing toward the violinist, who had retrieved his bow and was inspecting it to make sure it wasn't damaged.

He nodded again. "Yeah..."

"And then you ended up in South America somewhere and were…"

"I don't like talking about that, Anne. Not then, not now, and it's all in the past. Water under the bridge."

"Is it?"

"I was captured, I was treated…kinda badly, but I got out and I went kind of…off the deep end, I guess, and ended up in Mexico. After that, Hannibal found me and got me out and I've had…" He shrugged. "…some structure since then. Maybe not calm, really, but whenever I got really bad, they would take me someplace where I could get the help I needed and I always got out again…" He looked down. "If it hadn't been for them, I'd still be in Mexico, or…"

"Worse," she nodded, and he saw real misery in her eyes. "I never knew where you were, after you joined Smith's team. I heard about y'all through the grapevine, but then I moved to New York and I had even less information and Ben died…did you get to go home for the funeral?"

"Yeah. I did. Hannibal came with me, thank God. Kept me from goin' to pieces at the time. I was hard to say goodbye to Dad, that was for sure."

"Yes. I know. Saying goodbye…" She touched his fingers again. "It was so hard for me…giving that ring back…it was the hardest thing I've ever done. I was never more miserable in my life, when you walked away."

He nodded, reliving the pain he had felt then. It had, in the end, been the right decision for her, but for him, it had been agony. He wasn't willing to place blame on Anne for any of his actions after that, but it was true that he had stopped caring if he lived or died. He had volunteered for that mission in Bolivia just two months after their engagement had been broken, and had only managed to escape because his unit needed him to fly them out. The mental and emotional breakdown had followed shortly thereafter…

"I never stopped loving you," he said suddenly, and her eyes widened. "Never. Not even when I was at my worst."

"I never stopped loving you, either," she answered softly.

"Think we've still got a chance?" he asked, chewing nervously on his lip, searching her face for any sign of mendacity, and finding none.

She turned pink and smiled, looking down at her hands. "It's funny, how different men and women are, and yet how much we're the same…" She shook her head. "Women have this often unfortunate tendency to love longest with all hope is lost. I really did think I'd never see you again, James, and that if I ever did, you would despise me."

"I was pretty nasty that day…"

"You were surprised. I was too, and it's okay. It's okay. And yes…I think we have a chance. It's just…gonna be rough. You're on the run, and I'm just starting to make a name for myself in my career and…"

He nodded. "Yeah. I suspect that high fashion and police chases don't mix too well."

Anne smiled at him. "Well, it certainly won't be boring, will it, Congressman?"

"No. There won't be a dull moment!" he answered, and gave Antonio a sharp look. The violinist kept his distance and only played quietly, avoiding their table. Murdock and Anne looked out at the water, enjoying the quiet before what they both knew would soon be a storm.