Cool, Cool, Cool: Title Of Your Roleplay (A Brooklyn 99 Rp)

It was nice to see the two of them joke around in front of her; Hazel wanted to be one of those cool captains that wasn’t only a boss, but also: a friend to everyone in her precinct, seeing Cat and Jules act so casual around her only confirmed to her that she was on the right path.

”The party will be...” Hazel paused for a moment to think about it. She had seen Tortie and N go to Callie with it, which meant that it was really Tortie and Callie planning the whole thing, with N simply there to make sure they didn’t get too crazy. ”I think it’ll be interesting, exciting at the very least,” she expressed with a small, casual shrug as she looked back to the two detectives. ”Tortie, Callie, and N are in charge of it and between the three of them I’m sure whatever they pull together for Kaminski will be memorable,” she decided with a small nod of her head.

Which, actually, speaking of Kaminski.

Gesturing vaguely over at Jules, Hazel continued. ”That reminds me though, I know you’ve been without a partner ever since N got promoted, so I’m assigning you to Kaminski, I think you two will get along,” she explained with a rather casual shrug.

Jules and Val both needed partners, but Val typically did best alone, hence why Jules got the new partner, plus Ruiz had a tendency to be a little...intimidating and Kaminski was jumpy as it well, Jules might be the better fit in this case.

To him the apartment wasn't that bad of a mess. It wasn't the kind of messy where food was left out to spoil and rot or anything like that, no, Roswell was an adult enough to clean up food and make sure the apartment was livable in. It was mostly the kind of messy where items were all over the place like a random blanket and piles of clothes in the floor or game cases scattered around in places where they shouldn't be. There was no imminent danger of random mold or anything like  that growing in the apartment, but it wasn't in a shape where just everybody could find it hospitable. 

Knowing that Pluto would more than likely be home, Roswell planned on calling out a quick greeting and explination for why he was home early, but it seemed like she had beat him to it. 

What could only be described as a dorky smile pulled at his lips when he heard her familiar voice. "It's me and Norman," he replied, taking a moment to stand in place as he looked over to the couch where she was sitting. "We're doing some undercover work and guess who didn't bring a change of clothes?" Roswell still felt a bit stupid for that. He was a detective. They did undercover stuff all the time. He'd have to start remembering to bring an extra outfit or two with him to work now. "And no to the pizza, but I can pick some up later." Pizza did sound really good right about now, but he'd have to focus on that later. Work first, pizza with Pluto later.

Once Roswell answered, Pluto poked her head up from the couch, short, platinum blonde hair a mess - which made Norman question if she had even brushed it in the first place this morning - as she looked them over. ”Cool, also heyyyyy Norman, what’s up you little gremlin?” she asked with a snort of laugher, pausing for a second to get a good look at his attire. ”On second thought, lemme finish, what’s up with the unicorn hoodie, gremlin?” she asked, extending a hand out from the couch to gesture at his getup.

Norman resisted the urge to smile or something. He had met Pluto before of course, and despite her ever present need to call him a gremlin, he had to admit he was kind of fond of her, like in the “annoying sister” type of way. ”First of all, we’re going undercover, I had to dress in something no one would ever expect me to wear,” he explained with a nonchalant shrug. ”Second, the real important question here is what’s up with your hair? It looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days, you look like a goblin,” he told her in the same snarky, teasing voice she had used for him.

However his words seemed to roll off her shoulders like raindrops down a window. ”Eh, I had a pretty busy night - hacking for people and all...good people obviously - and crashed at around noon, I just woke up like an hour ago, obviously I have not brushed my hair yet,” she responded, slouching back into the couch.

Norman sent her a pointed look despite knowing she couldn’t see it anymore anyways.

Sighing, he turned his attention back to Roswell, nodding slightly to gesture towards the hallway that - presumably - lead to the bedroom. ”Alright, let’s just grab you something to wear and head out, we’re wasting time just standing here.”

Tortie --
Callie had a very good point right there, but of course, Tortie thought her coworker had a lot of good points so she was probably a little bit biased there. Even still, wine was a good idea for an office party if you asked her. It wasn't a wild drink or really had anything bad associated with it. It was wine, a sophisticated drink. She had high hopes that maybe, just maybe, N the party pooper would give in to at least that, but the logical side of her, which was a very small part of her but there nonetheless, was already sure he would say no to that as well.

So when N gave the two a look, shook his head, and responded with a quick “No”, Tortie wasn’t too disappointed. Disappointment was there, but it wasn’t some heart wrenching, soul crushing, all engulfing disappointment.

Tortie agreed with Callie, listening to her as she listed off everything they needed and that they didn’t have a very large time frame to get all of this done. At her friend’s question, she was about to suggest they they go ahead and go on, since technically their job for today was to set up the party, but for once N beat her to answering the question, and surprisingly, he seemed to be agreeing with her.

”With how little time we have, we should probably go on ahead and get some of these things ready. We were tasked to put this together, and sitting around up here all day won’t get that done,” he pointed out.

If he wanted to say anything more, though, Tortie cut him off as she gave an excited bounce. ”Then what are we waiting for? We’ve got a party to set up!” Without waiting for either of her companions to give their own input, the young woman raced off to the elevator, beyond excited to go out and shop. How many people got to say they got to shop for their job? Not a lot of people. Tortie stopped for just long enough to click open the elevator before slipping inside. ”Come on, you two!” To keep the elevator doors from closing shut she stuck an arm out after pushing the button to take them down.

Typically elevators didn’t close when there was something in the way, and Tortie was using that to her advantage, so when the doors did start to slowly close she didn’t bother with moving her arm away. She saw N starting to make his way over, and she didn’t think it would be much longer before they would be able to get a move on. In her excitement at getting this party put together, she didn’t realize that the doors were starting to come together a little too closely than they should.

And before she knew it, the doors closed right on her arm. Which, she would have panicked more over the pain if not for the fact that the true panic came from feeling that the elevator was about to start moving.

...With her hand stuck in-between the doors.





Roswell --
Sounded like Norman had just had his first encounter with one of the furry friends that lived in the apartment. Granted, there were only seven, but that was still a pretty large amount of ferrets in one apartment. Roswell personally liked the idea of having a lot more ferrets, around the range of fifty-three, but that was a dream for another time and another day. Right now he was content with the seven he and Pluto had. They were his little children, and he was lucky enough to have as many as he did.

”That was just one of the ferrets. Told ya they’re everywhere,” Roswell chuckled faintly as he headed toward the closet in the room. He glanced over at Norman as he opened it up and shrugged. ”You can go out if you want, but I can just change in here.” If Norman wanted to stay in the room he could, but Roswell wasn’t going to keep him there if he didn’t want to stay, either.

Not waiting for a response, Roswell walked inside the closet and shut the door behind him. He took a moment to look around, trying to figure out what would be the best to wear. Maybe something a bit more professional to counter Norman’s not so professional? As he thought about it he slipped out of what he had been wearing and grabbed another outfit and put it on. Eh, it was okay, and it was more professional than a unicorn hoodie, but it was too similar to what he had been wearing earlier. Deciding against it, he took it off and went to grab a typical pair of jeans and a t-shirt instead. He quickly slipped it on, smoothed the shirt out, and then shook his head. No, that didn’t seem right either. Sure, it was casual and comfortable, but it wasn’t what Roswell wanted to go for.

A few outfits later he was about ready to just give up and go in whatever he found next when he spotted something in the floor that caught his attention. Already he knew this was the perfect outfit.

He quickly grabbed it and slipped it on. Feeling confident this was it, Roswell opened the closet door back open and walked out to show Norman his disguise - which happened to be a light gray rabbit onesie. ”How's this?”

Roswell —
Okay so maybe the rabbit onesie was a bit over the top, but it just seemed like the only good choice to him at that moment. Norman was wearing a rainbow unicorn hoodie, so could he really say much? Probably. Unlike Roswell the redhead hadn’t had a choice in what he was going undercover in. It had been one of his brothers that had picked out Norman’s outfit. But even then, Roswell felt like they matched somewhat. Unicorn hoodie. Rabbit onesie. That matched, right? Oh, who was he kidding, he didn’t know anything about fashion. At least the onesie was comfortable and kept him warm. That was something at the very least.

All that aside, Roswell gave a quick goodbye to Pluto before heading out to get this all started. They were running against time here, and luckily the drive didn’t take more than it needed.

Once there Roswell followed after Norman, careful to be as stealthy as he could. He couldn’t risk messing this up. This wasn’t just his case, it was his and Norman’s, and while Roswell knew he was a mess up, he didn’t want to tarnish Norman’s streak of being an amazing detective. The last thing he wanted to do was mess something up for Norman.

As they ventured in further Roswell felt himself growing wary. Something didn’t feel quite right to him, but in situations like this anything could happen in the blink of an eye. He was sure what he was feeling was just the adrenaline of the chase, and he pushed it off as that. Besides, he had Norman, and the younger detective knew what he was doing a lot more than Roswell did; he swallowed down any trepidation he had and kept going.

Now things were getting interesting. He followed Norman’s lead, pressing up against the wall as his partner did. He could make out a set of voices in the next room, and one clearly sounded like it belonged to Gail. Roswell shot Norman a quick look, and it seemed as soon as he had done that Norman made the move to barge into the room.

As quick and nimble as the rabbit he was, Roswell hopped into action alongside Norman, and what he had expected to jump into was not what he got.

The room was empty. All they had in there with them was a DVD player.

And that’s when the door closed on them.

He didn’t need to be told it was a trap but he heard Norman’s voice loud and clear. ”Crap…”



N --
The last thing he expected at the start of a shopping trip was somebody getting their arm stuck in an elevator, but here they were. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him that much when dealing with Callie and Tortie, but this was something he hadn’t anticipated.

Usually with shenanigans from the two of these N could ignore it. But this wasn’t something he could ignore. For as much as he was shown to not care and to just be overly fed up with all the shenanigans his coworkers made him put up with, he did care about them. If he didn’t, if he truly was as fed up with everything that happened at work, he would have put in his two week’s notice a long time ago. So seeing what very well could end up with Tortie getting her arm broken, or even worse, shot N into action.

He didn’t have to tell Callie to tag along; out of the corner of his eye he could already see the younger detective springing into action as well, actually beating him to the elevator doors. ”Hang on, we’re going to get you out,” he called out to Tortie.

”Please don’t let me lose my arm! How am I supposed to do anything with just one? I won’t be able to write or text or finger gun cute people or ma-”

”Hush, we need to concentrate,” N snapped as he started pulling against the other door opposite of Callie’s, putting in as much effort as he could to get Tortie’s arm free. He could still hear her whining and whimpering, but he supposed he couldn’t blame her too much. Getting your arm stuck in an elevator was sure to hurt and be scary.

Eventually he could feel the doors give way, and with Callie’s help, it wasn’t long before he started seeing the doors pull apart. With one last pull N felt the slack give way and the doors finally parted open, Tortie unceremoniously plopped down into the floor, groaning and trembling as she curled herself up into a fetal position.

Growling in frustration, Norman angrily opened the dvd player and took the disc out, throwing it onto the ground and smashing it underneath his foot. "Who even uses DVDS anymore? It's not the early 2000s!" he spat out in his anger, pressing his shoe against the disc until it had cracked underneath the impact, breaking into a couple, sharp pieces.

Honestly, he wasn't actually that mad at the dvd player, or the disc.

In all honesty, he was mostly mad at himself for falling for something like this. He had known that Gail was suspicious, he had known that he should've done more research to prepare for this, and yet he hadn't done the research and he hadn't let himself stop long enough to actually think any of this through.

That's what really got to him here.

Not the stupid dvd, or even the fact that they had gotten trapped.

That he was the reason they were there, all because he was too stupid to think before he acted.

Letting the rest of the anger roll off his shoulders, Norman stopped his heavy panting, sighing as his shoulders fell back, his body pressed up against the wall as he lifted his head up and glanced over towards Roswell. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess," he muttered out under his breath, avoiding eye contact with the other detective. "If I had just thought this through, we wouldn't be here right now, and now we're just a pair of dumb furry wannabes trapped in a random dark room," he explained, gesturing pathetically around him at the room.

A murder was happening right before his eyes. It was truly despicable, heart wrenching, nerve wracking, honestly the worst kind of crime that Roswell had ever had the misfortune of watching, and he had seen some pretty bad stuff. Like that one time a pigeon got ran over by a taxi. That had scarred him, and he didn’t think he’d ever get the sound of the pigeon’s final squawk out of his head.

No, this crime was even worse than the pigeon. This was something he honestly felt like crying over.

Roswell was too slow in saving the DVD player before Norman took it and threw it down followed by smashing it underneath his foot. Roswell took in a deep breath in hopes of hiding the fact that he was tearing up a bit. ”That poor DVD player… I bet he had a family, a wife, or a husband, maybe six or seven kids…” In despair and grief Roswell fell down to his knees, crawling over to the remnants of the piece of technology that Norman had just massacred.

Still holding back tears, he looked up at Norman, eyes round in his grief. ”Don’t be sorry for getting us stuck in the room. Be sorry for murdering a family man,” he whimpered, reaching out to pick up a few pieces of the DVD player into the palm of his hand. He shook his head as he drew his hand near his face and, with a slow draw of breath, gave a gentle kiss to the pieces of the DVD’s corpse before throwing it up into the air in a final goodbye. ”May you find peace in technoheaven, little guy.”

Roswell could have very well stayed there in the floor mourning the DVD player for a lot longer had it not been for Norman’s words drifting through the air. The older detective stopped and turned to look at his partner, noticing he was serious about what he had just said. Roswell’s mix matched gaze dropped to the ground beneath him.

He felt a pit open up in the inside of his chest. He was being ridiculous, wasn’t he? Here they were, trapped in a room not knowing what was going to happen to them...and he was in some dumb rabbit onesie mourning a DVD player. And this is why you’re the 99 failure.

Sighing, Roswell pushed himself back up to his feet. Norman was right. The redhead didn’t apologize often, and Roswell should have accepted it and went on, but no. He didn’t. Instead he had been overdramatic and idiotic and just plain stupid. Like he always was. Just like always. Roswell supposed some things never did change.

Doing his best to push down any feelings, he looked at the wall straight ahead. ”Come on, let’s find a way out.” If he could at least focus on that then maybe he’d be able to do something rather than wallow around in self pity until he died in this dumb room.

Check the lock. That was something he could do. It was an easy enough task, and Roswell was sure not even he could mess that up. ”Got it.”

Without any hesitation he rushed toward the door, stopping as soon as he made it. He started looking at the lock, eyes narrowing in concentration. ”Do you have anything on you that could maybe pick it?” He called out to Norman after a moment. ”I feel like after this kind of trap they’d cover the base of not letting us pick our way out, but it’s worth a shot.” The more he thought about it the more he realized it would be almost too easy if they could just pick the lock, but hey, Roswell had been wrong plenty of times before and maybe he was wrong here too.

Pausing for a moment, Norman frowned thoughtfully. Something to pick the lock with....hmm. ”Aha,” Norman muttered as he grabbed his foot and leaned against the wall, taking off his shoe, he stayed quiet for a minute, focused on his shoe until finally he pulled out a small paper clip that looked like it had probably seen better days. ”Here, try this,” Norman told him, flicking the paperclip towards Roswell. ”I keep a paperclip and...some other stuff in hidden pockets in my shoes, no one ever thinks to check yours shoes, you can get away with storing almost anything in them, so long as it fits,” Norman explained casually, slipping his shoe back on as he turned back around to face the walls.

The chances of them actually picking the lock were unlikely, so Norman had to hope they found the hidden door that Gail had used to escape from.

Feeling around, Norman continued on, walking along the walls, brow knitted together in thought. ”If I was a secret door, where would I be?” He mused quietly, however honestly if he was a secret door, he wouldn’t be a door in this dump, he would be a secret door to a secret passageway in a mansion that is only opened by pulling out a specific book on an old, antique bookshelf.

Otherwise what was the point in even being a secret door?

Roswell glanced back over at Norman right as his partner was taking off his shoe. He was going to say something about that, how this wasn’t the time for stripping, but he held his tongue. Norman wouldn’t actually be stripping, he had already proved to be taking this case as seriously as one could in a unicorn hoodie. Why he was taking his shoe off was soon revealed, and it wasn’t much longer before Roswell was thrown the paper clip; he easily caught it.

”That’s a really smart idea,” Roswell praised. Sure, he wasn’t completely idiotic and went on cases without something in the case of an emergency, but he had never really put thought into keeping things in his shoes. He also hadn’t thought much about keeping a paperclip on him either. Eh, instead of getting sad over it he was going to focus on the task at hand.

As Norman searched the room for other ways out, Roswell went to work on the lock. After a good minute or two of getting nothing, he let out a defeated huff and stepped back. ”Anything on your end?” He turned to look at his partner, knowing that if Norman had found something he more than likely would have announced it, but asking just felt more official than assuming.