counterfeit | an advanced roleplay discussion

A courtyard.

Leigh had found a perch in the middle of the courtyard, sitting along a bench with her eyes looking over each and every one of the other recruits passing by. She had started this bird watching because was itching to pickpocket something, anything, but knew there would only be something worth pickpocketing from someone with stature. Unfortunately, it had been three hours, and Leigh had found anything but stature. The urge to steal was gone, now replaced by a bit of a longing for someone close enough to, or matching, her status. Yes, she knew that she should not refrain herself from making acquaintances with people she considered below her, it would hurt to have a few allies who carried a bit of... Rank.

Leigh was nearly drifting off to sleep when she caught sight of a blonde haired boy whom carried himself in a way that screamed I'm much too important to be talking to you. She grinned slightly and stood, making her way closer to the boy.
However, as she became able to see the features of her target, she recognized the all too annoying demeanor and appearance of someone who was trying too hard to be someone they're not. Disappointed by her failure to recognize the obvious signs it was all lies- This is a school for con artists.- she immediately turned about on her heel in a maneuver that had been helpful back when she didn't want the police to catch her. However, Leigh forgot to anticipate the fairly moderate sized crowd, and ran flat into someone who couldn't possibly be faking his all important attitude. Besides, Leigh noted. I've seen him on the news.

Peter stepped out of the dorm building to which he was assigned, making his way across the campus to the main building. To do so, he had to cross through a fairly expansive courtyard. With the amount of petty criminals and thieves, it was a death sentence, especially because his status, if you will, made him a slightly larger target.

He walked -- no, strode -- through the wide, congested walkways that cut through the courtyard, trying his hardest to avoid brushing against people. He didn't, nor could he, trust anyone around him. A person brushed against him from behind and he flinched, but it was too late. The pickpocket was already running, darting into the relative security and anonymity of the crowd of recruits and staff alike, and he was down about a hundred dollars. Not a huge deal, but definitely irritating.

Peter swore and glanced around at the crowd around him, trying to look for the thief, but instead got a short, hair and stature, girl slamming into him. She looked vaguely familiar, but then again, everyone did-- campaigns and parties and galas made that possible. He shot her a startled, yet annoyed glare and took a step back. "Careful." The word was more sharp than he had intended, a dismissive caveat with the sole purpose of verbally pushing her away.

Leigh stumbled back slightly as she recovered from the collision. She looked the man up and down, ignoring his verbal reprimand. "Peter Truslow, correct? Not the first person I'd expect to see here. Then again, I never expected to see myself here, either." Each word was spoken with precise infliction, something all politicians learned to do- or politician's daughters. She smiled at him with a bit of a glint in her eyes, seeming perfectly at home in this courtyard of thieves and liars. Leigh was one herself, after all. "And do you know who I am?" She proceeded to ask, her voice taking on an impatient note. It was unlikely he didn't, for both of their families were the type that weren't forgotten, regardless of nightly gallavants. ~Sorry it took so long, I was switching to a new phone.

The boy raised an eyebrow, lightly gripped her elbow, and steered them out of the crowd of people to a concrete bench. He sat, motioning for her to sit as well. "So someone watches CNN," Peter started dryly, leaning back. He analyzed her, noting little details, but no name that he could remember for such a familiar face. "Should I know you?"

Being a dick was a better alternative, in his mind; in all honesty, Peter knew the face, but not the name. Then, it hit him. "Wait. You're a Johnson, right?"


( my short length is the most my sleep deprived head can do, so sorry abt that )

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Leigh gave a half bow when Peter guessed her name; or at least half of it. She had yet to sit, remaining standing as a somewhat assertion of at least partial control of the situation. "The one and only Johnson of this current generation- and someone far more skilled at keeping questionable events questionable in the sense that I keep the media only questioning." The weight of her words kept her at a neutral standpoint, not insulting Peter but not complimenting him either. She crossed her arms as she waited for a response, her eyes skimming over the practical sea of other recruits.

~Its alright. I'm tired myself

~Reminder

Peter gave Leigh a once-over and rolled his blue-green eyes that so captivated the media. "Lauren? Lily?" He murmured while she talked, fully aware of how much of a jerk he seemed to be. "Leigh. You're Leigh." The way that Peter said it was more of a blunt statement than a realization, as though he knew it the whole time and was reminding her.

He gave the brunette a sheepish smirk, and shrugged. "What can I say? The media likes a good show." It was true, at least in his case. He got more attention, and his father actually seemed like less of a corrupt politician; at least now he was a household name like he had always wished, right? "New topic, though--" Peter said quickly, before she could reply, "--why do you think we're here? My letter didn't say anything, and was delightfully vague. I didn't even have my own security detail coming over here."


((So sorry! Didn't even see the notification. ))

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~Sorry, I'm ignoring goodreads at the moment since I hate the format on my new phone. I have an event tonight but I will respond soon.

((Alrighty, sounds good ))