[hr][hr][center][h1][color=ff6600]Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway[/color][/h1][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdnmpkey7v1qf4sbho6_250.gif[/img][hr]Location: Riley's Car ---> the Station[/center][hr][hr]Tuesday enjoyed the relative silence of the car ride, raising an eyebrow whenever Riley glanced over at her. She knew that her sister would want to have a talk with her about her lifestyle, but she didn't care all too much about how other people felt about it. As long as no one was snapping handcuffs onto her wrists, they could all piss off, as far as Tuesday was concerned. And besides, they were all adults. They were all the same age. It wasn't like she was a confused and misguided kid starting down a path that would ruin their life.

[color=ff6600]"The stations in California are much nicer,"[/color] Tuesday observed idly, though her heart had begun to pound. As she exited the car with Riley, she couldn't help but feel like throwing up and running off, anything to avoid the police. Cynthia's playful insanity didn't take her mind off of it much, and she dug her fingernails into her arm, squeezing tightly in order to stop her fear and panic. She only succeeded in drawing small droplets of blood, her anxiety and terror still present as they made their way into Tim's office, where Marc, as always, was waiting for them.

[color=ff6600]"That's some fucking bullshit,"[/color] Tuesday agreed, backing her sister. Marc might have been an FBI agent, he might have had the power to lock Tuesday up for a few more years and throw away the key, but she couldn't help but voice her opinion. [color=ff6600]"You don't get to play god, Marc. And for all we know, you're the creep behind all of this, and we'll find their corpses in the morning. Would explain how the sicko got a bullet proof vest--I bet the FBI has an entire fashion line designed around them."[/color]