"What the hell you go and do that for? You crazier than the fool!"

"B.A.! Stop yelling at him. Just talk to us, Face."

"I want an explanation, Lieutenant. That's an order."

"You ain't never had this much trouble talkin' before."

"What was the trigger?"

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm one of your roommates, Murdock. It's no big deal. Hannibal gets an adrenaline rush when he's on the jazz. I get an adrenaline rush from this. What's the difference? If anything, it's better. I'm not risking my life. There's no permanent damage."

"There are scars, kid."

"Come on. It's not like they're on my face."


"It's not like they're even on my wrists. A mark is never going to see my thighs. Not unless they're really lucky. You aren't going to lose your meal ticket."

"That's not what this is about. Enough people have hurt you, kid. You really gotta' be one of them?"

"Maybe I'm just beating them to it. I'm damaged goods. I'm a supply officer. I know what happens to damaged goods."