Not my men, if they were... Well, you don't have to be psychic to know what would suddenly become cannon overnight.
He'd driven right to the address he'd been given, not really bothering to try and do the normal amounts of background checks he liked to go through. This bidder had been anonymous after all. He didn't even get a name. There would be no way of knowing who had paid for him until he opened that door. Of course, he did have the option of simply looking up the address in hopes of getting a name off of the lease, but the thought hadn't actually come to mind until he was pulling in front of the building.
The complex was fine, a little less kempt than his own, but nothing too shabby. He would scope out what he could before knocking on that door though, make no mistake. Carlton Lassiter was not a man to throw precaution to the wind. Especially if this person was shady enough to bid for someone's night.
First, he'd question the landlord, maybe a neighbor or two if he had the time before he was really supposed to be there, whatever he could in the span of the next half hour. He'd come early, naturally. Even if he needed to spend time investigating, there was no reason to show up late. Punctuality was key. All plans were thrown out the window when he passed the landlord's office however, a sign hanging from the door with 'Be back tomorrow' printed in bold, orange.
It also occurred to him just how strange he might seem if he just went knocking around on the neighbor's doors late at night. Well, nine o'clock wasn't necessarily a universal curfew... No. Just knock on the stupid door. Get it over with.
He took a narrow breath, and lifted his hand before hesitantly knocking on the obscenely blue door. There was a fumbling noise on the other side, like someone had tripped. Lassiter, on impulse, brought his palm to rest over the gun on his hip, because of course he'd brought it. There were 101 reasons not to leave it at home tonight, and only about 7 in favor of abandoning it (yes, he had made a list of the pros and cons). He knocked on the door again, "Everything alright in there?"
The door was pulled open in a split second, making Lassiter flinch. In front of him stood a very wet, nearly naked, Shawn Spencer, "S-Spencer? What the hell are you doing here? And... what in the world are you wearing?"
"Well, Lassie, I happen to live here." Shawn replied smugly, pulling the door open another fraction as an invitation to enter, "As for the towel, I can only say that I was just coming out of a glorious shower when you knocked. You're half an hour early Lassie. I could have gotten away with another singing another Sinatra song if you'd been on time."
"Well, I was planning to find out information on the person who had bought me." he huffed, stepping inside and taking in his new surroundings. "If I had known it was going to be you I wouldn't have shown up at all."
"You're required to!" Shawn chirped, shutting the door and bounding up next to him, "I spent good money on you!"
"You spent three hundred dollars, Spencer."
"Exactly! Do you know what that money could have bought me? Why... think of how many delicious pineapple smoothies that could have paid for!"
Carlton huffed. This was not how he wanted to spend his next three hours. Especially since Shawn had made absolutely no move to put on anything decent, he just stood there in his living room with nothing but a towel. It wouldn't have bothered him that much, if Shawn hadn't laid candles out all over the god damn apartment. On the table, on the bookshelf, a jarred, scented on sitting on the TV. They were everywhere, and provided the sole light source for the entire space. "Spencer what the hell is this?" he finally asked, crossing his arms as the man made a run for the kitchen.
"What does it look like Lassie?" he called from the other room.
Lassiter grumbled, poking around while Shawn was absent, "It looks like you're fooling around. Spending valuable police time to play with me."
"It's not exactly police time, Lassie." Shawn replied, stepping back into the room with two glasses in hand.
Lassiter was surprised to be handed a short glass of iced scotch with a big smile. He narrowed his eyes at his host, finding the whole situation rather fishy. Though, generally anything that involved the fake psychic gave off that kind of aroma. "Why am I here?"
"Because I saw you up on that stage looking like you'd just watched someone shoot Bambi's mother. You looked real uncomfortable, so I took it into my hands to help you out." Carlton watched as Spencer sipped through the straw of his own drink, plopping down into a loveseat behind the table, and staring up at him with a fond grin. "Besides, don't you think it's better this way? You could have ended up with a grabby old lady."
"How are you any better?" He grunted, taking a seat beside him nevertheless and nursing his scotch.
"I'm hurt, Lassie." Shawn slapped a hand to his chest, his very naked chest, and feigned hurt, "I'm hurt."
"Put some clothes on."
"My house." He retorted, "I reserve the right to be naked if I so please. It's in the constitution!"
Carlton let out a light huff and relaxed against the couch. The scotch was calming, and Shawn's couch was surprisingly comfortable. So, despite himself, Lassiter found himself relaxing, "Spencer, nowhere in the constitution does it say a man has a right to be naked in his home."
"You going to arrest me for it then?"
"It's not illegal either, Spencer." he grumps, "Did you ever bother to learn these things? You're an American. Working for the police! You would think-"
"I'm not exactly one for being normal, Lassie. I like to think I'm rather unpredictable, like the little bald guy in Princess Bride, only taller and with astounding hair."
"He was inconceivable, Shawn, not unpredictable."
"I've heard it both ways."
Lassiter sighed heavily, lifting two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance, "Spencer, why did you bid on me?"
"Don't you know that I love spending time with you, Lassiekins? You're like a big ball of fun tightly squished into a tight pile of needles."
"Gee." he grumbled, "Thanks."
"I'm serious." Shawn continued, "I think if you just took a load off now and then you could be almost as cool as me and Gus."
"I'd rather stay a pile of needles."
Shawn drooped his head with exasperation and dramatically scoffed, "Really, Lassie. Let me show you a good time, loosen up that tie, bring out the big ball of fun!"
According to his contract he couldn't actually leave, but Shawn didn't need to know that. He pretended to think it over, as if he really had a choice to stay or go. "Fine." he finally replied, "But there will be no pineapples, no psychic crap, and for god's sakes will you please put some clothes on?!"