As soon as Juliet had knocked the woman off balance Shawn charged in, desperate to get the knife away from her slender throat. His focus was entirely on that knife, which was probably why he didn't notice the gun until it was too late.
"Really? In your bra?" he asked, mind working fast on how to get the cold muzzle off the back of his head. "First cell phones, and now guns? What's next, a life-sized replica of Judd Nelson's hair?" Gus rolled his eyes, temporarily distracted from the absolute horror residing in his gut.
"Shut up," the woman hissed, dragging him closer to her to use as a shield by his hair. He yelped in protest as the cold metal embedded itself deeper into his scalp.
"You know how bad hair can ruin your entire day?" Shawn asked, jerking his thumb towards the gun.
"Freeze!" shouted Lassiter, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.
"Way to turn up the heroics, Lassie!" congratulated the psychic, more than a little relieved that the possibility of his imminent death was almost over.
"Drop the weapon," growled the older man, training his gun steadily on the nervous criminal. She stepped backwards, dragging Shawn with her. Uh oh, he thought, mind moving fast to find a way out of his fix. She's desperate. This is not good.
"Drop it!" Juliet reiterated harshly, her gun leveled at the woman's head. Take the shot, he wanted to say. I trust you! Something about this situation was all wrong though, and the pseudo-psychic was having trouble finding his voice. The gun was uncertainly lowered from the back of his head, and Shawn sighed heavily.
"I don't care," she whispered, just loud enough for Shawn to hear. His stomach turned to ice.
"Don't care about what?" he rasped, finding his voice finally. He met Abigail's terrified gaze, and then turned to Gus, wordlessly telling him to get her out of there. Thankfully, Gus understood what Shawn was trying to communicate, and whispered something in Abigail's ear. She nodded mutely, and took off running in the opposite direction. The woman didn't even seem to notice Abigail's sudden disappearance as she answered Shawn's question in a voice that was deadly calm.
"I don't care," she mumbled, "whether I live or die." Shawn's eyes were wide as the sound of a report rang in everyone's eardrums. His shocked gaze slid over Lassiter, paused longingly on Jules, and finally settled on Gus just as a trickle of blood was inching past his lips. His mouth opened in a silent "oh" before he fell straight at the ground, the sounds of gunfire, and the thud of another body hitting the ground nearby escaping his ears.
He didn't hear the screaming. The sobbing. The pleading. The bargaining. The threatening.
He heard them laughing, his photographic memory serving him well as he lived in a happier moment.
As he faded away, he heard them laugh.