Chieftain. A couple of overly done-up chippies, each clutching Marin's New Yorker, geek up to the bar, asking if Jack really lives there. Ben, nonplussed, points him out, sitting right beside them, and as the gals give him a predatory stare, Jack politely asks if he knows them. They introduce themselves: the blonde one's Cheryl, and the brunette's Meryl. They wave off a joke about their rhyming names before anyone cares to make one, and explain that they're from New York (as if we couldn't tell as soon as they opened their mouths and the Massapequa phone book fell out); they came up on a cruise. Meryl says, "We just read your article." Jack thinks they read his journal article, and Cheryl's like, "So cute!" They explain that Marin wrote the article, about him. Jack's face falls. Meryl says that they know Jack isn't "Mr. Chatty Cathy," but that they'd like to buy him a drink. Jack, shutting down, says that he isn't interested, and Meryl sagely nods: "Because of Lynn." "What?" asks Jack sharply. Cheryl: "We know. You're wounded." "Tattoo," whispers Meryl, tapping her arm. Without a word, Jack gathers his things and stomps out, slamming the door on his way. Meryl and Cheryl at least get a look at his ass before he's gone, so the trip wasn't a total waste.