Father David sat in silence in the dim confession booth. His hands rested on his thighs, eyes shut as his mind wondered on the latest case. Witches, dancing witches, Satanists, hexes, and a spirit... ghost... some poor murdered girl. It all ran through his head as he kept a calm expression, as if anyone could see. He was brought from his thoughts when he heard the other side of the booth open. With a silent sigh, he slid the small window open. David ignored the slight chill that went up his spine. "The Father, Son, Holy Ghost-" He muttered under his breath, tapping his shoulders and head, "When was your last confession?"