[center][h1][color=ff6600]Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway[/color][/h1][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/2d28080f0cc98a678bde922d61f3a608/tumblr_mgzbia55fy1s3fblro1_400.gif[/img]
Location: Inside the Gym[/center][hr][hr]Tuesday shrugged a bit, after hugging her sister back. Truthfully, she knew that if she had called Riley, she would have gotten her a ticket. She probably would have managed to set Tuesday up with a better job than being a temp, making copies, and having her background check constantly reveal her criminal record. Her life didn't have to be the way it was.

She merely didn't want to get handouts from her sister. If either of the twins owed each other, Tuesday was the one in debt. There was no way that she wanted to owe her sister further, especially after how awful she had been all those years ago in high school. 

[color=ff6600]"I don't need you to buy things for me,"[/color] Tuesday laughed, rolling her eyes. [color=ff6600]"I was able to afford a flight out here, after all."[/color]

Avoiding Riley's eyes, Tuesday dearly hoped her sister was still in the dark about the drug abuse. Most people who knew about it assumed that Tuesday had gotten clean in prison, but truthfully, she never had easier access to drugs than when she was behind bars. It was almost like a buffet of narcotics, only one favor to a guard away. 

[color=82ca9d]"Actually, we have had three murders in the last twenty-four hours. So here comes the standard set of questions for everyone arriving late to the party. When did you get to town, where were you from 4p.m. yesterday until now, and did you have access to your sisters prom dress?"[/color] Marc asked, his arms crossed.

Tuesday's happy outward appearance vanished. Subconsciously, she started to scratch her wrist, the inner panic setting in. Sure, she hadn't seen Marc in ages, not since the odd occasion he dropped in to visit her, and attempted to get her clean. That wasn't what alarmed her, however. 

[color=ff6600]"I...I...,"[/color] Tuesday stuttered, her eyes impossibly wide. She scratched at her wrist more and more, her breathing a bit uneven. It was all too similar, all too fresh. Six years since she had been arrested, and her reoccurring nightmare continued to be cops, being questioned, being arrested, being dragged back to prison. 

She might have been released, but jail never left her. 

Closing her eyes tightly, flashbacks of her arrest came back to her. The questions, so plain and so simple, yet so damning. The photographs, the hand-cuffs, the well intentioned public defenders who handled her case initially. She remembered the clang of the gavel as she was sentenced to two years, and her co-defendant only received community service.

[color=ff6600]"I'm not answering questions unless I have a lawyer here,"[/color] Tuesday finally said, her voice uneven. [color=ff6600]"I...I have rights."[/color]

Of course she was aware how it all must have looked, that she clearly must have seemed guilty, what with needing a lawyer. She knew that. In her head, she was screaming at herself to just answer the questions, but she couldn't. Her entire body felt numb, and she was hardly aware of how irritated her wrist became, as she continued to scratch at it in terror. 

She simply couldn't handle it. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Tuesday wasn't able to answer Marc, to let him know that yesterday she had been at work in Los Angeles, she spent the entire day traveling, and only had just arrived in town. She couldn't tell him that she hadn't had access to her sister's dress, and that she hadn't had the faintest idea where it would be in the first place, that both of their parents had disowned them and she hadn't been back in Grimm in ten years. 

She just couldn't.