Disclaimer: Since I didn't mention this last time...I still don't own Psych
"By 'figure it out' I didn't mean come to my house at 3 in the morning," Lassiter grumbled at his open door at 3:05 am in dark green pajama pants.
"We both know I can't do it without seeing the case file or the scene."
"Ask your girlfriend," Carlton grumbled with a yawn.
"I already did, she said she wouldn't because she's a cop first and a girlfriend second…and she doesn't know I'm not psychic."
"Well I'm a cop too," Lassiter commented annoyed, slamming the door, which bounced off Shawn's outstretched foot allowing him to follow Lassie into the house.
Shawn sat himself comfortably on Lassiter's couch, propping his feet up onto the coffee table as Lassiter brought in a pile of manila folders and flopped them with a loud thump onto the table.
"You did it again," Lassiter growled, "You solved my cases."
"That was before you told me not to."
"And you got Burrito all over them," Lassie added with more annoyance.
Lassiter sighed, frustrated, leaving the room for a second time before returning and whipping another manila folder into Shawn's lap. The case file.
"Oh Lassie…you shouldn't have."
"Just read it Shawn, I need to go back to bed. Unlike you I get up in the morning for my job."
"Mmmkay," Shawn mumbled glancing over the file and flipping through the pages, "hmm."
"Okay, that's enough," Carlton snarled, ripping the file from Shawn's hand, "Go home and wait for Guster, he's coming home isn't he."
"Your right," Shawn shouted, jumping from the couch, "I need to buy Twizzlers and get our Night Court marathon ready to watch."