#fakeattack roleplay

[ask-talkshitgethit]

“It’s just a blog.” Chad had said.

Sam wasn’t really sure what to do with that information. At some point, someone had stolen his laptop for a full hour, which is hard to pull off considering he always keeps it within arms reach. Sam hadn’t found out who it was yet, but right now, he isn’t really concerned with who. Right now, he’s concerned with why. When he stepped back into his room in the penthouse, his laptop was waiting for him like it never moved. Exact same position on his desk. Exact same cursor position. Exact same laptop. It was hard to figure out if one of the guys is trying to play a prank on him, but was this their idea of a prank? A full-on website where he can answer questions and talk to people on the internet? He already has social media, why does he need to be introduced to another? But also, what kind of a fucking prank is this?

Skeptical, Sam wheels himself back to his desk on his chair and moves the mouse experimentally, clicking a few random icons to see what they do. Texts, pictures, videos, people--Sam blinks at the URL of the website. He knows he should probably be wearing his glasses right now, but he’s pretty sure he’s reading it right.

“What the fuck is a Tumblr and why’s it misspelled?”

SAM MITCHELL FROM FAKEATTACK IS NOW OPEN FOR RPS AND ASKS!

[ask-talkshitgethit]

Behind his sunglasses, Sam was sporting a black eye. He would never admit that it hurt like a motherfucker, so he keeps his arms crossed and his smirk on, leaning back heavily on the chair. His hair and clothes were a little disheveled, but other than that, he didn’t look half bad. Okay, he still looks roughed up, but that isn’t the point. The point is Sam got into a fight with someone and, of course, won and for some reason, here he is. In front of Barbara Dunkelman. Who is part of the LSPD.

Not his best escape plan.

Sam straightens up and leaves the cup of coffee alone for now, “Depends. What’re you gonna do about it if I tell you?”

open f/m/nb. / connections: fellow detective, criminal, citizen, etc.

“ so, ” barb speaks, approaching them with a mug and a paper cup of coffee. instead of having a seat, she’ll lean against the desk, placing the cup in front of them for the person sitting beside her desk. “ you clearly seemed to have had a rough day. mind.. telling me about it? ” the blonde will ask almost conversationally, bringing her mug up to her lips to take a quick sip.

[ask-talkshitgethit]

Finally, Sam reaches for the cup of coffee that was offered to him earlier and takes a cautious sip before looking up at Barbara, “Told the kid to run before the cops came. I never touched the kid, but ya betcha ass I beat the guy. You came too quickly, though. Guy’s lucky I didn’t finish the job.” 

[x]

[ask-talkshitgethit]

ohcney [Jack]

perhaps ten minutes pass, because there’s a knock at the door. she’s straightening out her floral print button up shirt when she reaches the source of knocking, and opens the door to see the man she was just on the phone with. “ sam mitchell, ” jack says his full name in greeting before opening the door a bit wider to let the other inside. “ come on in. you can set those pizzas down on the kitchen counter. ” she tells him, before instinctively peeking out of the door to see if anyone else was there. it’s more of a habit than anything else, and she quickly closes and locks the door. “ damn, that smells delicious. ”

“Jack Pattillo,” Sam replies with a smirk and steps in when he’s invited, walking to the kitchen counter and setting the pizzas down. “Wasn’t really sure what you’d like so I just got combo and cheese, just in case.” He places the boxes side by side and opens both, turning to Jack to hand her a plate before grabbing his own plate and taking a slice from both pizzas. Leaning on the counter, Sam inquires, “So, what’s the great Jack Pattillo herself doing on a regular day without chaos?” He takes a bite of one of his slices.

“Hey Jack, you at your penthouse right now?”

“ ‘course i am, sammy. ” jack sat up from her sprawled up position on the couch, fidgeting with the phone between hands, before putting it back to her ear. “ what can i do for you? ”