Forbidding Episcopal Edifice. Piper stares down the church's front doors from her car, then repeats "I have nothing to be afraid of" to herself a thousand times before emerging from the Cherokee and striding across the street. She climbs the steps. She glances at the sky. She reaches for the latch. She swings the door open on its rusty hinges. She glances at the sky. She hops into the vestibule. She hops back out onto the steps. Nothing happens. She raises her arms in triumph and stomps out a gleeful end-zone dance while squealing and giggling to herself. Hee! Christ, how did this show get so sucky in later seasons? Piper's reverie is cut short when the addled elderly lady from the soup kitchen line wanders into view. Piper spots the Limelight hand-stamp and connects the dots to the missing Big Blonde. "Brittany?" she bleats. "You know me?" the crone stutters. "Is that my name?" Piper gapes.
Buckland's. Interview With The Prueminator, Part The Second. Rex would "like to test [Prue's] expertise," if she wouldn't mind. He leads her past some scaffolding to introduce her to "Hannah Webster," one of the auction house's specialists. Hannah looks like the old-maid librarians in one of those movies where the guy -- you know the guy, the one who blows into some dusty, out-of-the-way town to shake things up a little -- tells the librarian to let down her hair and take off her glasses, and when she does so, the guy -- yeah, that guy -- says, "Good gracious, Miss Webster! You're beautiful!" and for some reason all the old coots who normally pass the time chewing tobacky in the barber shop are there in the library to witness the transformation and they all agree with the guy and Miss Webster gets a whole new lease on life and finally finds happiness in the arms of a man. So, um, yeah. That's Hannah. And she's standing in front of an Italianate Madonna. Prue demonstrates her curating chops by correctly identifying the painting as a latter-day copy of Bellini's Madonna Of The Meadow. Prue then really gets to stick it to Miss Hannah by expounding upon a nearby Degas. Miss Hannah none-too-subtly boots a nearby ladder, jostling a bucket of paint from one of the upper rungs. Prue flings her hands up defensively, and her telekinesis arcs the stream of paint away from her body onto a drop cloth. From Hannah and Rex's perspective, however, it looks like the paint is simply dropping straight to the floor in front of her. Rex apologizes profusely and offers Prue a job. She thanks him and peels off past Miss Hannah, who looks like she just caught a whiff of some particularly foul odor. Damn that Crohn's Disease! Damn it to hell!