[OTA]

[psych_outshawn]

On the sidewalk fronting the Psych detective agency, Shawn Spencer, fake psychic detective and very much real snack cake connoisseur, was busy. Uber-busy in a way which would have surprised his father, for Shawn had tools at his disposal. Real wrenches, nuts and bolts and those tiny things that look like nails except they were ribbed for...well...

Comments

*slowtimey after this. busy blah day*

[battyredhead]

Barbara was on her way back from the garage. Her bike was still not working at all but at least she got it to rumble for a second. It wasn't really all that fair, though. Felt like one hell of a tease. She decided to take the long route and ended up wandering past Shawn and his little project. An eyebrow raised slightly then she made her way over.

"Need some help with that?" she asked with a smile.

[psych_outshawn]

Shawn dropped his mouth open, readying to say "Batgirl" but his common sense (a tiny yet persistent little creature who wouldn't stop hovering its little paws right above Shawn's conscience and playing the 'does this bug you? I'm not touching you' game, the bastard) managed to hold him back. The shape of his mouth changed to accommodate the first syllable of "Barbara" instead. But her name came out more like:

"Baaa-ahhhrrrrbaraaahh..." and was accompanied by the most amazing facial contortions, not unlike the ones Shawn made while sucking on a sour ball candy, or while fantasizing about Ally Sheedy in Short Circuit.

"Sure," he said, regaining his composure.

[battyredhead]

The facial expressions amused her and she put her hand over her mouth to hide the laugh that came out despite her best efforts to not let it do so. "Interesting interpretation of my name, Shawn." She said this with a smile to show there were definitely no hard feelings.

"What are you trying to do?" she asked, her hands on her hips and her head tilted slightly.

[psych_outshawn]

"It happens to be 'Barbara' in Azerbaijanianese," Shawn said, nose slightly up in the air as if mildly offended. "And I'm a little disappointed that you didn't recognize it."

He beamed wide at Barbara's question and jogged over to the snack cart. "This is going to be the coolest sidewalk vending snack establishment in existence! We got the name," he said, showing off the sign with flowing arms worthy of a game show hostess. "We got the product. All we need is the smokin' hot ride. Thus, the spoiler needs to plop on the back of the cart. Then! And only then will it be complete."

[baroness_of_bud]

"I thought you said you were fit." Nancy said as she noticed him while coming back from the coffee shop with her first fix of the day of frozen coffee. "Or have you just lost that since I saw you last; I know its been awhile." She teased.

[psych_outshawn]

"I have endurance," Shawn corrected with a waggle of his fingers, standing with a bounce of his knees in front of the metal object he'd been attempting to move for the past 45 20 10 5 minutes. "Brute strength isn't my forté. Go ask a bodybuilder to run a marathon. He can't do it," he said, pressing his hands together in a praying gesture and then angling them to one side. "Different applications of physical fitness."

[baroness_of_bud]

"You want me to try and help? I don't know how much help I'll be now, but I did carry a fifty pound kids on each arm once upon a time." She was in sneakers and a bit bulkier from some extra baby still on her, but she still had to have some of that strength left over, right?

[psych_outshawn]

He considered, eyes rolling upwards as he gazed at the sky. "Oooh, that cloud looks exactly like the Mama Rabbit from Runaway Bunny."

No, c'mon Shawn. Focus!

He shook his head and shuffled to one side of the part. "Sure. I'm just trying to get this spoiler on the back of that cart," he said, pointing vaguely at the blue thing which looked kind of like a hot dog cart, if it were redesigned by Chip Foose. "Can you take the other side? Lift on three. And I mean three. Not 'one-two-three' lift, but 'one-two' lift. I've been burned by 'one-two-three' lift before, so that's why I need to clarify." Or maybe Gus's meticulousness was rubbing off on him.

Ewwww. He reminded himself to go drink milk out of the carton later to get that Gussyness out.

[commander_spock]

"E-Z- as Pie?"

Spock was never good at those odd turns of phrase, nor was he good at these... peculiar spellings. But the young man was looking as if he needed some assistance.

Straightening the collar of his warm jacket, he approached more and tilted his head at the vehicle. "Do you require some assistance?"

[psych_outshawn]

No freakin' way.

No freakin' way.

No freakin' WAY!

Shawn didn't even have to look at the stranger to figure out who it was. After all, whooooooo had "The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins" on iTunes repeat for weeks? It may have been Gus, but Shawn couldn't remember and besides the song was ultra-catchy. And this was the village, so it had to be the real deal, not Nimoy with the ears.

His right hand started to tremble, movement which he seemed to find very surprising. The shaking grew more and more intense and lively, and he clamped his left hand on his right wrist to try to stop it.

"I...can't--" His fingers started to spread apart (very painfully, judging from Shawn's sharp gasps and groans) into a distinct gesture. Ring and pinky fingers pressed together at one side, middle and index fingers to the other, thumb set out by itself. Shawn lifted his hand to eye height, gazing in apparent horror and confusion at the weird hand sign.

[edit for ooc note: Shawn mojo done with Spock-mun's permission.]

[commander_spock]

That was peculiar. The young man seemed to be acting against his will, and in... some sort of state of astonishment. Perhaps he needed assistance beyond the moving of the sign, and his apparent inability to spell could be linked to a larger condition. He moved closer, ready to offer assistance (and close enough so that Shawn could likely make out that the capillaries of his eyes were green, and edged with a third eyelid).

But then Shawn lifted his hand in his traditional greeting. Spock returned the gesture, though somewhat reluctantly given the evident astonishment on Shawn's face. It was brief, as well.

"Are you ill?" he asked, brow quirking up at the man's unusual behavior. "If necessary, I can contact one of the physicians at the clinic."

[psych_outshawn]

The details of the other man's face weren't lost on Shawn. Those eyes? Definitely not human.

"I'm okay." He struggled to force his right arm down with his left, finally subduing the wayward limb and grinning in triumph. "Sorry, sometimes I can't help myself. Psychic vibrations in the air. I sorta...pick up on random signals. So that hand thing is yours? I'm getting something else, too."

His hand fell under his control again, and he raised it to the side of his head. "A word. A really important word. Important to you. Schrute? Spork? Stork? Stark? Spark? Spock?"

[jd_jules]

"Shawn?" Juliet was on her way to the station after having a not very satisfying lunch at the cafe. She wasn't able to decide on the soup or the sandwich and had went with the soup, only to regret not getting the sandwich after it. She bet the turkey tasted good too. "What are you doing?" She looked at him with a curious and amused expression.

[psych_outshawn]

Shawn was literally wrestling with the spoiler, leaping at the metal object and then hugging it vigorously in a pointless attempt to get the darn thing to move.

"Remember that wild idea Gus and I had about starting up a snack cart business?" No, Juliet probably didn't, because Shawn completely forgot about telling her.

[jd_jules]

"Um.. no?" Juliet watch him wrestle for a second. His technique wasn't so bad, but nothing like a professional wrestler. She had dated a wrestler once in high school, but it hadn't lasted very long. The uniform, for one thing, wasn't as attractive as others. "But I take it this has something to do with it?"

Juliet looked at the metal and then at Shawn. "Do you want some help?"

[psych_outshawn]

He abandoned the car part like a puppy grown bored with its toy and approached Juliet. "You and Gus both know that I am an absolute wiz at making cakes in my EZ Bake Oven, right? And I mean, actual magical wizard and not Richard Pryor in that weird Diana Ross movie. Because he was--" Probably abusing drugs on and off the set. "Anyway, Gus said they were good enough to sell. And viola." Yes, 'viola'. "The village pops in this sweet little hot dog cart which I've been slowly giving the Overhaul treatment to.

"And any help would be great, Jules. You wanna take one end of the spoiler?"

[wizard_p_i]

Harry scrutinized the powder-blue vending cart for a long moment. "A)--what are you doing?" he said at last. "And B)--need some help?"

[psych_outshawn]

"I am teaching this welded hunk of metal plating who's boss," he said, taking hold of the spoiler's edge and throwing all his weight against it. It still refused to move.

"You want I should keep you warm, Boss?" he sighed, draping himself over the car part with a dancer's careful grace.

"Help would be good."

[wizard_p_i]

"Help I can provide. You grab one end, I'll grab the other. If two skinny guys can't lift this, somethin' just ain't right."

[psych_outshawn]

"'If two skinny guys can't lift this, somethin' just ain't right,'" Shawn intoned. "We could put that on a motivational poster. Underneath a picture of the pyramids or a waterfall or something equally visually striking. Sell millions to middle managers everywhere."

He maneuvered to one side of the spoiler, rubbed his hands against the backside of his jeans, and gripped at the car part.