MacGyver sat down on his couch slowly, then let himself fall over so that his aching head rested on a cushion.
He still couldn't believe that Deborah... or whatever her name really was... had tried to kill him. Her attractiveness and their apparent compatibility had only been tools that she had tried to use to ruin him. And he had fallen for it. Fallen for her. That stung more than the burns on his face.
There was a scent on the pillow... her perfume. Mac squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sigh.
... And reached for his guitar.