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Murdock who (now that Face thought about it) had been uncharacteristically quiet the last few minutes, suddenly cleared his throat. "Um, Colonel? May I say something?"
"By all means, Captain."
"Well, I would just like to say that while I understand lashing out in moments of stress, and while I have myself been guilty of using coarse language at times, there is such a thing as going too far."
"Meaning?" Hannibal prompted.
"I feel like we need to talk about Faceman calling the Viet Cong vịt cao su*."*
Face groaned. Of course Murdock would have to bring that up.
"Wait," Hannibal said. "He called them ducks?"
"Rubber ducks to be precise, sir, and I just feel like that was taking things too far."
Ignoring the muffled snort from Hannibal as well as the flutter of giggles coming from B.A.’s side of The Hall, Face went on the defensive. "Hey, you're the one who taught me that! And they deserved every word. You should be glad I didn't call them kẹo mút."
“Lollipops!” Murdock made a scandalized sound. "You kiss B.A.'s Momma with that mouth, Face Guy?"
"Hey man, you kiss my Momma, we gonna have to have a talk. And I do all my talking with my fist."
"B.A., will you relax? I've never even been to Chicago."
"Are you guys nuts?"
The unfamiliar voice caught Face off-guard. He'd forgotten for a moment that they weren't the only prisoners here. Actually, he'd forgotten a lot of things.
"We're only nuts during the Vernal Equinox," Murdock answered seriously. "The rest of the time we're fruits."
“You mean fruitcakes, don't you?”
“Speak for yourself, Faceman. B.A. Baracus ain't no cake.”
“Okay, guys,” Hannibal cut in, “let's settle down before our friends come back for another visit. Face, next time try to stick with less poisonous insults, all right?”
“I'll do my best, Colonel.”
“Good man. Murdock? Stop teaching Face bad words if you don't want him to use them.”
“Okay, Colonel.”
“Great. And all of you stay away from B.A.'s mother. Got it?”
“Yes, sir!”
The answer rang out in stereo, made up of voices both familiar and not. Laughter followed. Most of it was strained; littered with gasps and soft groans. But every bit of it was real.
Face knew exactly how they felt.
“There, B.A.,” Hannibal said, the grin obvious in his voice. “Feel better now?”
The low grumble that came from B.A.’s cell was his only answer. Something to do with ‘fools’ and ‘rubber ducks’ and… ‘fruit salad’ maybe? There was no way Face could say for certain. He was far too busy laughing.
THE END