Lassiter shakes his head to himself and takes another sip. Only Spencer would take it as a compliment, or at least act like he was taking it as a compliment. Sometimes he wondered just how thick Spencer's skin really was.

"I'm not scared." He keeps his voice level, careful not to let it sound like he's protesting. "I don't have to be scared, I'm not singing."

It's not actually much of a surprise when the commotion behind them starts off. He doesn't even bother to turn around to look at the woman and the waiter. When, exactly, did he start paying attention to the babble that the so-called psychic lets spill from his mouth? He's starting to take it for granted, and that can't be good.

He narrows his eyes at Spencer, already regretting that he's going to ask. "Costa Rica?"