<hr/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>REVEREND FRANCIS BAKER PRESCOTT | 27| PRIEST </strong></span><hr/><br/>Father Prescott entered the public house with little regard for propriety. A man of his standing was expected to stay away from such places, but he found himself ignoring such petty restrictions. He had broken more important rules than that in his day, and nothing was going to stop him from a good drink and interesting company. He made his way over to the table where they sat, only catching snatches of the conversation.<br/><br/>"Excuse me? Professor Brockman, isn't it? I simply had to say hello," the Reverend said. "And to you of course, madam."<br/><br/>His gaze lingered a little long on Ms. Demalure. There was a curious urge in the back of his mind to touch himself as he gazed upon the woman's features. She was certainly a desirable young thing, and the Father was gripped by a need to ensure that the psychoanalyst didn't get his hands on her first. He was sure he had already planted his hooks into her mind, but he could wrench those hooks away and replace them with something else, surely...<br/><br/>"Is this seat taken?" he asked, with a pleasant smile.