Murdock made no mention of the odor to B.A., but pulled his shirt back up over his face again. B.A. didn't say anything either, and the pilot didn't know whether to be happy or upset about it. They didn't speak at all during the drive.
Murdock tried to formulate a way to ask about the axe without advertising that he'd seen the blasted thing, but his mind slipped around on mental ice and he couldn't come up with anything plausible.
Back at the rental, the two were surprised to find Face sitting at the kitchen table. Hannibal was nowhere to be seen.
The conman turned at their entrance and watched them both. His back was straight and as he turned his movements were oddly smooth, as if he'd practiced twisting his body and now he was ready to show it to other people.
Murdock wished he could see auras; that'd be a useful trait to have, wouldn't it? Then he could see what was really exuding from the man at the table. He'd be able to peer beyond the veneer—if it was a veneer—into the core of Face and decide if the grin his friend gave him was really appraising, accompanying a look up and down like he was hungry and Murdock was a steak, or if the grin and look was just one of concern for someone the conman cared about, and was worried for.
He didn't know, and didn't like it. Even as Face asked if he'd make dinner, Murdock made an excuse to leave and made his way up the back stairs to get to his bedroom.
He heard B.A. ask about Hannibal and Face reply that he'd gone to his own bedroom.
Murdock thought the Colonel must have had a more killer migraine than typical, and didn't check on him in case he finally had gotten some peace.