Maybe, thought Murdock, there’d be something worth looking at in this one horse town after all. He and the guys had parted ways at the local diner; another lengthy cat-and-mouse session with the MPs had left him feeling restless and volatile, and bugging BA while he tried to stuff a hamburger in his face wasn’t going to be enough to dispel it.
No, what he needed, the big guy definitely wasn’t interested in providing. He smiled inwardly, where the beautiful specimen sitting to his left wouldn’t see it. It had been a while since he’d indulged in one of his favourite ground-based pastimes. Gay bars weren’t his scene, and the fella he’d met at the rap session at the VA had taken a job in New Jersey a couple of months ago. There was a jazzy feel to messing with one of these ‘straight’ guys, he mused, the ones who’d convinced themselves they were made for the white picket fence life. And ruffling feathers was another of his favourite pastimes.
Murdock and Face meet in a bar.
[ If Only ]
