A/N: Written for fiction_stadium, an Iron-Chef style challenge com. This was for Battle: Confusion. :D
"Does he do this...often?" Mrs. Robinson asked, never taking her eyes off Shawn.
"You have no idea." Gus sighed into his hands, hoping against hope that an earthquake would spontaneously occur and create a gaping chasm directly under Shawn's feet.
“I’m sensing a pattern,” Shawn spoke up, bracing himself against the foot of the bed with both hands. He stretched one leg back. “One…two…three…four!”
“Are you declaring a thumb war?”
Gus and Mrs. Reynolds spun around at the voice from the doorway. Behind their backs, Shawn cracked one eye slightly, biting his lip as Detective Lassiter glared straight at him.
“Hold on-my reading has become-corrupted. There’s static, so much static I can’t get a reading-”
“Good,” Det. Lassiter crossed the room, grabbing Shawn by the elbow. “Because you’re so finished.”
“Officer, please-“ Mrs. Robinson started. “This is Mr. Spencer, the psychic from Santa Barbara. The head detective on my son’s case sent for him-“
“That’s detective, ma’am,” Lassiter sighed, spinning around and dragging Shawn with him. “And this man? This Mr. Spencer? He wasn’t called for by anyone in the Santa Barbara PD, he’s supposed to be at the station waiting for me to come pick him up, as I am the head detective on your son’s case.”
Mrs. Robinson turned to Shawn, looking heart-broken.
“Mrs. Robinson,” Shawn started.
“Is that true?” she demanded.
“…sort of. You see, I got a premonition about your son, so I called my friend, the very honorable Detective Lassiter here-“
“Oh for the sake of-” Lassiter sighed, dragging Shawn out of the room again.
“You have my number! Call me! Gus! Give her a card!”
“You even reach for one Guster, I’m having Buzz cuff you.”