Face struggled to pull the sticky-with-sweat T-shirt over his head, the sodden cotton clung to his skin, its reluctance to leave his person lasting until the last fiber was torn from his body. He dropped the wadded fabric to the marble floor where it landed with a soggy 'plop'.

Leaving the shirt where it had fallen, he toed off his army boots and wandered wearily through the mansion, heading for the bathroom where he intended to shower until his skin fell off.

Flexing his freshly bulked arms and stretching his neck out, he reached down to shed the short khaki shorts, which put up even more of a fight than the T-shirt had, and dropped them to join the trail of clothing.

Reaching the expansive bathroom he stepped out of his underwear and all but collapsed into the huge shower, turning the water on as hot as his bruised skin could stand it. Bracing his arms against the marble walls and locking his elbows, he allowed his head to drop forward on his neck and the steaming water seared down his naked back. Hissing through his teeth as various cuts and tender flesh were aggravated by the heat, he reached for the shower gel and lathered the day's thick layer of sweat and grime from his body.

Hannibal's week-long training sessions happened once every three months. The Colonel was determined to keep his Berets in shape, and while Murdock and B.A. always, without fail had the time of their lives, Face always, without fail whined his ass off the whole time.

He smirked as his soapy hands slithered over his skin, bronzed by the summer sun, and felt the results of the week's exertions. His muscles, usually gently toned enough for him to happily go shirtless in public, stood out hard and strong, his skin stretched healthily over them. His arms and pectorals had benefitted especially well from the work, and looking down at the bottle of gel in his hand he tried an experiment.

Cupping the bottle in one hand he drew back the other fist and slammed it into the unsuspecting plastic...

... Then blinked comically as the contents flew all over the shower stall and him.

"Face? Face, you in here?" Murdock's voice sounded from Face's bedroom.

Face yelled out in reply, "Uh yeah, Murdock, just taking a shower."

Murdock, unhinged and lacking the tact of the sane, bounced into the steamy room, "Man, Face, I feel great, Hannibal's workouts are..." He trailed off, his gaze skipping from one glob of shower gel to another as the remains of Face's power surge slowly dripped down the shower walls. His eyes, wide now with consternation, settled on the mangled bottle in Face's hand.

"Oh my God."

Face stared at him, "What?"

"Face... Face, what have you done?"

He frowned, "What? I got a bit carried away with the shower gel, that's all."

"'That's all'?" Murdock's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "'That's all'?! Face!" He clambered into the shower, fully clothed and all but elbowed the naked, wet, baffled Faceman out of his way as he frantically scraped the obliterated remains of cleanser from the walls and into his cupped hands. "Face, this gel is the lifeblood of the Goona Hu'manna; he dies if his gel isn't used properly."

Face rolled his eyes and grimaced, Murdock had clearly been out in the sun too long, "Well why don't you go feed it to your cosmic gerbil or something? I'm trying to shower here!"

Murdock gaped at him as if he had just committed the worst blasphemy possible.

"Murdock! Get out of my shower!"

The clearing of a male throat sounded in the doorway to the bathroom, and both soaking wet men turned to see their Colonel leaning against the door frame, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Colonel!" Murdock squelched out of the shower, much to Face's relief, and unleashed the day's Crazy upon the hapless C.O.

Hannibal, as always, took it in his stride and lead the jabbering Murdock out of the room, one fatherly arm slung about his slight shoulders, leaving Face in peace.

Without any shower gel.

"Damn it!"