Head up, stay strong. Fake a smile, move on. - Unknown
After Stockwell left, Hannibal moved to the patio doors, watching his men as they played volleyball in the pool. He wasn't sure if they'd gotten bored with the traditional version or if it was just too hot. Didn't matter. He was watching the men, not the game.
BA actually looked like he was enjoying himself. Again, Hannibal noted how different he looked without all that gold. The buoyancy of the water added to the man's natural agility, and he had a positively gleeful look as he pummeled the ball over the net.
Frankie was, as usual, trying to show off his skills. His somewhat outsized ego had never really bothered Hannibal, and thankfully the others had learned to ignore it as well. He grinned as Frankie vanished beneath the water after a rather spectacular miss.
Murdock had his normal exuberance, keeping up a running conversation, alternating between encouraging the ball and chastizing the net. Then Murdock leaped on BA's back, literally riding him down, one arm raised in salute as they sank. Almost immediately he was catapulted into the air as BA came back up, sputtering.
Hannibal's laugh faltered as he looked toward Face. Oh, he was grinning at the sudden launch along with the rest, but it wasn't quite right. He could still fool the others, but Hannibal had known him too long, pulled too many scams of his own to let the distinction get past him.
He'd been puzzled, but not unduly worried that Murdock and Face seemed to keep apart from each other over the last few days. Nothing blatant, and Hannibal had merely assumed Murdock's independence was starting to bloom now that he was out in the real world. But then he'd seen how Murdock would watch Face from that distance, and started noticing how often Face would just sit and stare at nothing.
At least now he knew why. Stockwell had no idea Hannibal hadn't known, of course, and he still didn't. The general's main concern was Murdock's 'blackmailing' tactics. Once assured that it wouldn't happen again, he'd left.
Hannibal lit a cigar, still watching Face. He'd have to have a talk with him. Not now, when he at least seemed to be relaxing. Maybe later this evening. After Murdock had gone.
He didn't want Murdock around for that.
Face was sure there was something on the colonel's mind. Several times he'd tried to pull Face aside, but something always interrupted them, and the time was lost. It bothered Face because he had a suspicion Hannibal had found out about Bancroft.
Face just wasn't ready to say anything yet. And now Hannibal was off on this 'secret mission' for Stockwell. Face didn't like it, but at least it gave him a reprieve. Hannibal was not someone who delved into personal things. No matter what he said, how supportive he sounded, those eyes would expect Face to man up and move on. Maybe, by the time the colonel got back, Face would actually be ready to.