The early days (for det_lassiter)

[head_psychic]

He's in a good mood.

No, not only is he in a good mood, he's having a blast.

With the McCallum case solved and the certainty of being hired again warming his heart this whole con had paid off pretty well. Currently unemployed? Na-ah, sir, not anymore. Now Shawn Spencer is a psychic, no, even more, a psychic detective and moreso, a psychic

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[det_lassiter]

Carlton is not in a good mood.

Lucinda started talking about putting in for a transfer; she keeps brushing his hands to the side, getting twitchy even when no one else is around. She has a career to think about, a reputation, damnit. He can understand that, but this wouldn't be an issue if it wasn't for that hack that calls himself a psychic.

He tries to bury his nose in a file, but his attention keeps drifting back to the Chief's office. Waiting to find out where he stands.

If he ever sees him again...

[head_psychic]

Shawn decides he likes hanging out in the department. He remembers a lot from when he was a kid and of course from his random tips but that rarely included the whole building and a lot has changed over the years.

He sees Detective Lassiter at his desk and that is cool because now he knows where the man's desk is and that might come in quite handy. Dude seems to have a lot to say around here. Besides, they're practically colleagues now.

"Yo! Detective!" Shawn grins and walks up to the man. His last encounter with the detective had been the math of his forehead and a car frame after all but, no hard feelings! Shawn Spencer doesn't hold grudges unless it comes to his dad, so. "How's it going? You still on that paperwork? Feel free to ask me when you got questions about the spelling of my name, alright? Oh! And! I have a very important question I gotta ask you."

He puts his lower arms on the detective's tabletop and looks at him with a very, very serious face. "Where did they move the vending machine for the chocolate bars to?"

[det_lassiter]

Slowly, Carlton lifts his head. Already, he knows that this voice will haunt his bad dreams for the end of time, but he still has to match the face to the voice.

He only just resists the groan of frustration as he sees it is indeed Spencer. Seriously? Maybe the gods want this idiot blotted out of existance. He pushes his chair back with an scrape, getting to his feet, so that he towers over the faker, taking back some kind of authority.

"Why don't you tell me, psychic."

[head_psychic]

Psychic. Shawn didn't expect to like it so much when people call him that.

"Dude, don't blame me for trying to make conversation." He grins good-humoredly, tilting his head to the side. "I was reaching out for you."