A holy visitation

The man just entering booth #10 is wearing slacks, a button-up shirt, and a windbreaker. He appears to be in his early 60s and he has brilliant white hair carefully parted along the side. He is slightly overweight and has a ruddy complexion that seems even darker in the low light of the booth. As he turns to the hole you nearly jump back with surprise.

It's Father Robertson, the priest from your church! He's not wearing his collar of course, but it's definitely him. You pull away from the hole just as he leans down to have a look himself.

"Father Robertson!" You exclaim.

You see his peering eye go wide with surprise.

"Joy Applebottom!" He cries. "What are you doing in a place like this?"

You lean forward so you can each see the other's face through the small opening.

"I could ask you the same thing, Father!"

"W-well," his face reddens and he mumbles something about ministering to the most sinful.

"What would your mother say about this?" He finally sputters.

"What would Father Brown say about this? Or Sister Vanessa?" You counter.

"P-p-perhaps," he stammers, "Perhaps we should forget this incident happened at all."

"Yes," you agree.

Then a naughty thought enters your head, as naughty thoughts tend to do.

"Since we are forgetting this ever happened," you say, "we might as well not remember something a bit more..."

You lick your lips purposefully and furrow your brow.

"Memorable."

Father Robertson's eyes widen, but only for a moment. He leans forward conspiratorally and whispers through the hole.

"What did you have in mind, my child?"