closed // jump down on jump street

[justashotaway]

WHO: Kaz, Derrica, Laura, and Tavin
WHAT: Four bright-eyed, bushy-tailed youngsters go to Nevarra's preeminent university in search of knowledge. And state secrets.
WHEN: Mid-to-late Kingsway
WHERE: University of Markham, Nevarra
NOTES: OOC deets for 21 Jump Street are here.

PART ONE


Combination salon + rager, with room for arguing over Great Issues of the Day and also getting crunk.

This is not their best work.

PART TWO


This, on the other hand? They're pretty good at.

Derrica and Tavin distract admin while Kaz and Laura get in and out of the Dean's office with all the records they aren't supposed to have.

Comments

[ketterdamn]

"It'll take them longer to work out if we don't ruin the damn lock."

The door is pushed further open, a neat bit of caution he thinks, and nothing springs out at them. No sound of traps triggering or wire snapping. Kaz puts a still cautious amount of pressure closer to the hinge, stifling the force of the swing as it opens further. Standing, he sets the butt of his cane down on the floor ahead of him, feeling out any loosened tiles or pressure points.

"Clear."

[justashotaway]

"We will be gone soon."

Nothing explodes. No scent of anyone besides a man currently away from the office, mixed up with leather and wood and paper and smoke, and no sounds besides those they make. Laura watches with approval as Kaz tests the flagstones, then ventures in. She assumes, rightly or wrongly, that any attempts to rig the office would be immediate, to protect the room as a whole; from here, if there are no tripwires, she suspects they will be fine.

It is a larger room than she expects, with shelves of books lining the walls and a dark, smooth desk in the center. And some kind of chest of drawers up against the back wall, the same sort of wood, and every book her eyes move over has a title she's never heard of before.

There is much to take in, and they do not have much time. Laura glances at Kaz. "Desk or...that." The cabinet. Chest. Drawers. Whatever.

[ketterdamn]

"Better reason to leave with some lead time on that suspicion."

There are a lot of students, but it'll get sussed out sooner rather than later that it was them once they disappear from the rosters. People have seen their faces now, there'd be no getting around it. The only possible upside is if the Venatori see fit to depart right on their heels.

Whatever, he'll churn that out mentally once they have the documents in hand.

The room itself is neat, filled with the smell of paper and wood, with the faintest bit of wax from the snuffed out candles. Carefully, he follows Laura on a similar trajectory, considering the chest and the desk.

"He's organized. I don't think he'd want the records to be split up; cabinet first."

[justashotaway]

It is a lot of cabinet, a little taller than Laura herself (though that isn't difficult), but each individual drawer is quite large. They will only have to check four, it looks like.

She walks over to it and pulls the first brassy handle, tensing for the possibility of retribution. Nothing happens, however, except a smooth scrape of wood against wood as the drawer opens. The same is true of the second, and of the third. The fourth, however, is proof of the reason she tested all of them immediately. By that point, Laura is bent over; if not for the little feet at the corners of the cabinet, the last one would be at floor level.

"This one is locked." Promising. And since he will undoubtedly complain if she uses a claw, she gestures at it. Open that.

[ketterdamn]

While Laura checks the drawers in the cabinet, he examines the dean’s desk. It’s tidy, as he expected, a neat stack of scrolls off to one side. Either work he would get to in the morning or things to be sent away. A piece of parchment sits off-center, the first draft of something in the works, though he doesn’t have time to read any of it because Laura is getting his attention again.

Turning, he stiffly lowers himself into a crouch to examine the lock on the drawer. He picks out one of the long picks, rolling it between his fingers for a moment before deciding against it and choosing another. There’s a rapid succession of changing picks, as he tests and retests, the tumblers remaining firmly in place. Finally, with a deft twist, the lock springs open, drawer sliding out a half inch when it releases. Quick fingers flip through the organizational tabs before he pulls a sheaf of papers out, wrapped in a thin leather folio to keep them together.

Wordlessly, he tops it towards Laura, indicating here’s our prize. Then, he shuts the drawer and re-locks it.