If someone was going to inform Primeaux's wife that he was going to be home late, it was not going to be Goldwasser. In fact, as far as he was concerned, Primeaux could stay in the holding sells for a long, long time. He wouldn't miss him. He didn't care if anyone else would miss him either. Did he look less sallow than he had in the atrium or was it just a trick of the light in the room? His mood certainly was more chipper and his step had an air to it as if he felt stronger. It had been at least...20 years he figured since he'd indulged like that. It made him wonder why he had stopped.

Walking up behind Ferguson, he rubbed a handkerchief across his mustache and bottom lip and then folded it up into a square and stuck it back into the breast pocket of his suit. "You can go Ferguson," he said in a low voice. He didn't wait to see if the Security Officer left or not. He walked up to the bars watching Primeaux. "So, you had some questions did you?" He asked the man in the holding cells.