Mark my words.

Mark Slackmeyer returns to the scene of the crime.

This time it is not John Mitchell.

It's a dirty, thankless job.

Thankless until now. Someone has to do it. If not him, then someone else.

Anything worth doing, is worth doing well.

Come one, come all.

Welcome to the Nineteenth Century. Historical preservation.

Like Westworld, but with real people.

Productivity index.

Pondering the imponderable. There are so many questions that require answers.

Someone has to ask them.

End the suffering.

Put her out of her misery. No reason they both...

Have to be suffering.

The Whistler.

And not the one who painted his mother in an arrangement in black and gray.

That would be J.A.M. Whistler.

Going out of business.

Everything must go. Total liquidation.

All sales final. No returns.