Replying...
Intro. it was raining when she was taken to the police station. The city seemed as cold as the eyes she received. She didn't say a word, just kept her jaw erected, even with the handcuffed fists and the orange uniform scratching the thin skin of her wrists. The delegate called her thief. The press of killer. But Detective Philippe Moreau… He just called her a liar. \- Are you going to say you were in the wrong place at the wrong time? He asked, leaning against the cell wall. His voice was calm, but loaded with judgment. "I don't have to convince you, detective," she replied, without looking at him. - I just need to get out of here alive. Philippe didn't know why, but that answer bothered more than it should. She had been arrested on charges of killing her father's own partner - a crime made perfectly. No digital, no witnesses. Just a poorly cut recording and an anonymous complaint. and she was there. In place. At the time. But something didn't beat.

In addition to the grids || Philippe Moreau.

@Clara