[center][h2][color=Cyan]Randy Jones[/color][/h2][/center]

	Randy winked at Raissa. [color=Cyan]"We are all the judges and the judged, victims of the casual malice and fantasy of others, and ready sources of fantasy and malice in our turn. Iris Murdoch. I'd think that's pretty poetic."[/color] Nodding at Jervis, Randy accepted the dossiers, sitting down at a barstool, flipping through the pages with incredible speed. The author had always been a quick read, and writing had improved his speedreading. 

	As he read through Dolores' dossier, Randy blanched, face turning white. [color=Cyan]"Th'fuck... Sweet mother Mary, this poor girl... Died so young... And what she did..."[/color] The man set the dossiers down at the bar, and covered his face with his hand. Her story read like a Shakespearean tragedy, and ended like one. But... what she had become scared Randy. He simply couldn't conceive of someone doing what Dolores was doing in the name of 'love'. That wasn't love. That was... perversion. 

	Randy didn't really react to the others after that. He just thought on the poor girl, and signaled to Jervis for another beer. It appeared that he would need it. He didn't have any strong opinion on any of the girls except Dolores. 

	She... scared him.