<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/c8/88/e5/c888e5269a9fd9ce9dd07279cbb1c294.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Ryder Monroe<br/><br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>At the bar, getting regulated<br/><br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Liz, open<br/><br/><br/><strong>Content:</strong>Doing the right(?) thing<br/><br/><br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>As shown<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The inked-up blonde nearly choked on her new drink. Clearing her throat loudly, she took another deep swallow to cover the racing of her mind. "You don't want me here," she declared, flatly, but her tone wasn't calling bullshit on Liz. Rather, it was full of tension and self-loathing.<br/><br/>"I'm a train wreck, waiting for a busload of mongoloid third-graders to get stuck on the tracks," she went on, unable to look her twin in the eyes. She really couldn't imagine that staying with Liz could be good, for either of them; it'd be great for her, for a while, money-wise but it'd mess up her sister's life pretty bad. And Ryder would be herself, and they'd fight, and..."I fucked everything with tits in town before I left, and a few things without. And then I took my freakshow on the road." Face bleak, she finally turned to the Other Her. "I don't even know why the fuck I'm here, you know? Guess I just...wanted to see you, get some closure, or some bullshit like that. But if you want, like, a normal life? White picket fence and the same muff in your face every night? You don't want me anywhere near you." With a stubborn, challenging glare, she slammed the rest of her drink, and shivered as it burned from tonsils to twat.