By the time Lassiter entered the Starbucks, Shawn had joined Nancy in the coffee line.
"Oh, yeah," he was saying as Lassiter approached. "He has visions all the time." He turned to the detective, grinning like a kid in a candy store…which, Lassiter couldn't help but remember, apparently weren't as fun to work in as they were rumored to be.
"Really?" Nancy looked impressed, her large, brown eyes meeting his. "Can you show me how it works?"
"What?" Lassiter growled, glaring at Shawn.
"You know..." Nancy shrugged, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Show me how it works…the whole psychic thing. Could you have a vision right now?"
"Yeah, Spencer," Shawn agreed. "Show her how it works. Have a psychic vision right now!"
Lassiter scowled, flipping the collar of his plaid shirt up. "What the hell do you want me to do?" he snapped. "I don't carry a crystal ball."
Nancy laughed, apparently mistaking his dangerously vitriolic tone with sardonic wit. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to denigrate your gift. I'm just curious. Couldn't you show me how it works?" She nodded at the short, blonde woman behind the counter, who was busy waiting on the person at the front of the line, at least ten people ahead of them. "Could you read something about the barista? Something only a psychic would know?"
Lassiter rolled his eyes, about to tell her to go jump in a lake, when he caught a glimpse of Shawn out of the corner of his eyes. The fake head detective had a smug grin plastered across his face, his arms folded jauntily across his chest.
He was so damn smug…
A sneer slowly crept across Lassiter's face.
If Spencer was taking him down, he wasn't going down without a fight.
"Sure, I can show you how it works," he told her, suddenly adopting the casual, Devil-may-care demeanor of a psychic detective who wouldn't know an honest day of work it kicked him in the pants.
He spun on his heel and started to march to the front of the coffee shop, pushing through the line of angry caffeine addicts. "Coming through!" he declared loudly, his voice dripping with sarcastic disdain. "I'm a psychic detective! I don't have to wait in line! Rules don't apply to me!"
Nancy shot Shawn a curious look.
Shawn just shrugged back. "Sometimes he channels A-holes…" he explained, quickly following Lassiter to the counter.
Nancy was just a step behind.
Lassiter leaned against the counter, ignoring the furious line behind him. He flashed the confused, harried barista what he imagined was a winning smile. "I'm not as good at picking women up as I think I am," he told her. "But that's not going to stop me from using every lame line in the book. I desperate for attention. Of course, once I find a line that works, I'll probably never call again."
"Now, Spencer," Shawn countered. "That's not true. You always call."
"Oh, Gosh, Detective Lassiter…" Lassiter returned with faux-sincerity so thick with irony Shawn couldn't believe no one else was picking up on it. "I guess you're right. I always call back…they just don't take my calls. And the women who do go out with me again eventually try to kill me."
"That's only happened a few times!" Shawn protested.
"A few times?" Nancy repeated, raising an eyebrow at Lassiter. "Women have really tried to kill you?"
"What can I say?" Lassiter shrugged. "Some women would rather spend the rest of their lives in jail then go out with me."
"Okay…" she shook her head slowly, not even trying to analyze that one. "But what does any of that have to do with a psychic vision?"
"Psychic vision?" the barista repeated, finally speaking up. She glanced nervously back and forth between the three of them, completely baffled by the exchange.
"Yeah," Nancy nodded, turning back to her. "He's a psychic. I was asking him to read your aura. Is that okay?"
"Uh…I think aura readings are supposed to be done on my break," the barista stammered. "And there's a line…"
"Don't worry," Shawn drawled, draping his arm around Lassiter's shoulder. "We'll be quick. He won't get anything, anyway. His psychic mojo is all out of whack today."
"Psychic mojo?" the barista blinked.
Lassiter shrugged Shawn's grip off his shoulder, raising both hands to his temple in a mocking impressing of Shawn's psychic pose. "The hell it is," he growled. "Wait…I think I'm getting something…of course, I won't just come right out and say what I'm thinking, because it's more important that I be the center of attention than form a coherent thought or actually be helpful."
He closed his eyes dramatically, attaching his palm to the barista's forehead. "This doesn't actually do anything…" he whispered. "I just think it looks cool and you're paying attention to me now, so I'm just going to annoying the hell out of you until you can't take it anymore and threaten to kill me."
"Let go!" the barista exclaimed, knocking his hand away.
Shawn just laughed. "Dude…that's not psychic-y at all!"
Lassiter opened one eye, returning Shawn's grin with one of his own. "Really?" he challenged, his eyes flashing. He turned back to the barista. "You were late to work this morning. In fact, you weren't supposed to work at all…they called you in on your day off."
She gasped, looking surprised. "You're right! How did you know?"
Shawn blinked, barely managing to contain his surprise.
Now it was Lassiter's turn to smirk.
"My damn psychic mojo is fine."