(Untitled)

[i_psy]

Who? Shawn and Gus
When? Right after this.
Where? Sergei's
What? You can't go around telling people you're a psychic when there are real psychics here, Shawn.
Rating? G? Let's go with G.

Comments

[gheebuttersnaps]

Gus is very punctual. Well, he would be if he didn't spend his days jumping headfirst into danger with Shawn. He didn't mind it so much nowadays. But that didn't mess up his theoretical perfect attendance.

He walked into Sergei's without a moment's hesitation and headed right for where Shawn was sitting. "Hey."

Is that jerk chicken?

[i_psy]

"Hellooo," Shawn greeted, picking up a drumstick and biting off more meat, then continuing, without much regard for the 'don't talk with your mouth full' rule.

"I ordered for you. S'pretty good!"

[gheebuttersnaps]

Ew. "That's nasty, Shawn." But he does happily help himself to some chicken. After a minute he gives Shawn that look. You know the one, where he's not amused and possibly annoyed.

"You know you have to stop telling people you're psychic, right?"

[i_psy]

Ah, nothing like jumping right into the serious business portion of the conversation. He wiped his mouth with a napkin-- let's face it, jerk chicken is messy-- and with his elbows propped up on the table, he folded his hands.

He liked to think it made him look a little more sinister or at least a little bit more like a genius thinking hard. After a moment, he waved a hand.

"Real psychics here. Who would have guessed?" And a pause. "You know, I could-- could still pull it off. Theoretically. I'd just have to do it around people who aren't psychic." And yet another pause, this time to take another bite of chicken. "I love a good challenge, but it's probably not worth it. Yet."