Father Prescott took a deep breath of the morning air. The chill was refreshing, though in time it would begin to wear on his constitution. He was never the most athletic of men - always the last to be picked for the football teams in P.E. even as a child. He rubbed the fingers of his free hand together, allowing the blood to rub off. Blood on the doorknob wouldn't be a bother, but to have it on his hand when he performed the rituals wouldn't be good form. He glanced over at the couple in the midst of their dispute, and frowned slightly to himself.<br/><br/>Another symbol of the fraying threads of the fabric of society, he thought, and he tutted quietly. A cruise would not fix a failing marriage, not any more than a child would. Though he didn't want to prescribe too much knowledge to the source of their discontent, he suspected that the man had not provided proper guidance to his wife. After all, if he wasn't wearing a hat...<br/><br/>He made his way over to the dead woman, setting his suitcase to one side and taking a knee. His hand flitted across his body to make the sign of the cross, and he quietly began to speak.<br/><br/>"Lord, welcome into your presence your daughter, whom you have called from this life. Release her from all her sins, bless her with eternal light and peace, raise her up to live forever among the stars in the glory of Resurrection. I ask this through Christ, our Lord and savior," he said. A shame, despite the words he said. The freckled face and the red hair reminded him of a certain girl from one of his few indiscretions... As he said, a shame.<br/><br/>He rose to his feet, nodding to the constable. Last rites were considerably shorter when the person in question was already dead. Any confession would be taken up with the Lord above, and her body would settle its grievances with the worms below.<br/><br/>Father Prescott noticed the psychoanalyst, his gaze lingering a moment. Then he noticed the pretty redhead, and his gaze lingered longer. He resolved to greet them, and made his way down the deck with an affable smile upon his face - the tragedy before already forgotten.