<strong>MS. LINDGREN,</strong>as you spoke to LT. WALKER, you noticed over his shoulder another man from your past, DR. BROCKMAN.  And standing beside him stood that strumpet, MS. DEMALURE!  The first filled you with dread.  He reminded you of something you longed to forget.  The second filled you with hatred. Oh, how you loathed that base and whorish woman.  How many times had you walked in on her naked bouncing body as she fucked the corpulent and hideous professor?  How many times had you observed that awful woman doing such un-Christian things to him?  It made bile rise to your mouth just thinking of that pretty red-head orally satisfying the Professor.  But was there some other feeling?<br/><br/>Ms. Lindgren, you spent approximately two years living in the same house as Ms. Demalure, but you were little more than strangers.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>FATHER PRESCOTT,</strong>you are able to catch up with Dr. Brockman and Ms. Demalure just as they received their sherry.  Now that you saw Ms. Demalure's face, you realized that you hadn't remembered what the deceased woman looked like.  You had a picture of her in your mind.  You had thought it impossible to ever forget that woman's appearance.  Her appearance had made such an indelible mark on you.  But now that you looked upon Ms. Demalure, you simply could not remember what the deceased looked like to make any comparison.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><br/><strong>MS. EZAB,</strong>you had never been around so many strangers before, so it came as a bit of a relief to see FATHER PRESCOTT emerge from the ship.  He was the last person you'd ever think to see again, but here he was, in the flesh, emerging from one of the buildings surrounding the<em>Majestic.</em>You observed as he walked over to a couple: a dapper fellow and a gorgeous red-head.