He made himself so warm that the top of his bullet head positively smoked.

The one with the bullet head and the tiny eyes.

It was a big, bearded man with a shock of blond hair on a round bullet head that seemed to have no neck.

The solid bullet head had no features, only a series of protrusions that might have been sensors.

He nodded his bullet head briefly and said it was a smart move.

For a moment I stared into two of the four eyes mounted round the thing's bullet head.

Another foot caught Gaspode on the side of his bullet head.

She felt oddly grateful that the remark from the darkness seemed to have gone entirely over the small bullet head.

Certainly not of the man with the bullet head, nor of anybody else.

He reached out a hand to one of the fleshy shoulders below the bullet head.