The two women sat in front of the television set and watched every moment of the in-depth report on the life and arrest of Michael ‘Sonny' Corinthos, Jr. Of all the coverage they had viewed over the past days, at least this particular reporter had endeavored to remain an impartial relater of the facts.

“I didn't know that about him.” Florence Taggert seemed to be holding a conversation with herself. Her words were low and measured.

“I am sorry. Were you saying something to me?”

Florence looked over at her son's guest. “I didn't know that Michael suffered from claustrophobia. That reporter said so just now.”

“Yes,” Dara nodded. She clearly recalled observing Sonny one afternoon via the cameras in the Port Charles prisoner lock-up. The experience was like staring at a caged zoo beast. Sonny's constant pacing was broken only by tiny fits of hyperventilation. He would gasp for air for several seconds before visibly pulling himself together…and the pacing would begin all over again. “It is pretty bad, too. The few times we managed to get Sonny behind bars, he nearly had an emotional meltdown.”

“Marcus never mentioned any of that.”

Dara wisely kept her observations on that particular matter to herself. It would only distress Florence to hear the degree of unconcern her son had for his half-brother's personal suffering.

“I'll be back in a while,” Florence announced. She gathered her purse and keys from a nearby drawer and made her way toward the front door.

“Back?” Dara scrambled to catch up to the determined older woman. “Back from where?” She positioned herself between Florence Taggert and the front door. There was no way she would let Marcus' mother simply breeze out of the house and police protection. “There are officers guarding the house, Mrs. Taggert. They are under orders not to allow anyone to come or go from here.”

“Dear, tell Marcus not to worry if he calls while I am gone. I will be back soon.”

Dara was the first to break eye contact. Sighing deeply, she stepped to the side. She had been reared by a mother much like Florence Taggert. Dara recognized the steely glint in her eye. There would be no changing Florence's mind. “He won't,” Dara referred to the husky officer standing just beyond the doorstep, “let you leave here. Marcus would have his badge.”

Florence Taggert sniffed once. “We will see.”

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