Blinking through the long chain of monologue, Lassiter tried not to pay attention to the words. He knows they aren't important. Spencer's mind must be the most chaotic place on Earth, full of stray empties, he catches himself thinking.
Where did he put the cat case file? He starts to pick through the files on his desk in order to shut the ramble out, and hopefully project the impression that he isn't interested. Why does he need to hear about Spencer's personal life, the films he likes to watch in his spare time, and who with? Why would he care? Who's the actress he's talking about?
The single, abrupt word stands out amongst the others, and the detective looks up to see Spencer reaching out for him. Looking around, Lassiter checks that no one is looking, before holding his palm out awkwardly for Spencer to take.
Shawn takes the hand and smiles before his face turns into a mask of concentration. "Alright, what do we have here..."
Squinting, Shawn lets his mind wander back and recaptures noted and filed details sealed in his memory.
Hallway. Board. Crime scene fotos. Names.
Lassy's desk. Notes. More names. Numbers. Files.
Lassy. Body language. Clothes. A spot on his suit.
Wait. Back to hallway. Another desk. Spilled coffee on the papers.
"Ohh! I'm getting something!" Shawn writhes and mutters a curse. "Ow! You... damn, how could you possibly miss the edge of that desk! Your hip is not happy. Same for your coffee mug."
Despite resisting the urge to yank his hand out of Spencer's grasp, Lassiter can't help the small jerk of reaction along his arm. Damn. His hip feels bruised, right on the bone, and his mug... His wife, ex-wife, whatever it is she wants to call herself these days, gave him that for Christmas a few years ago. So, it was nothing fancy, just a plain black mug with a couple of minimalist scarlet lines running through it. It was him. She had all her chintzy ornaments, but she had still known exactly what he would like.
And now it was cracked and unusable.
"Now try telling me something useful, Spencer." He might have sneered a little.
"Meoow. Someone's cranky," Shawn comments and shrugs.
"I guess I have to dig deeper..." He closes his eyes and runs his thumb over the detective's palm. "I can see something... I see... I see lines. A lot of lines. Why do I get lines? It's not your life line, I hope, because those lines are bad, they... hurt. The... killed someone. Oh my God, those are vicious lines! They... "
With a sudden yelp Shawn's body jolts into a series of spasms, still clinging to Lassiter's hand until his forehead hits the desk with a low thud. "I always hated that part of Jurassic Park. When they climb down that damned thing."
Sitting up again Shawn rubs his temple with his free hand. "An electrical fence. You don't think it was an accident."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Where did he put the cat case file? He starts to pick through the files on his desk in order to shut the ramble out, and hopefully project the impression that he isn't interested. Why does he need to hear about Spencer's personal life, the films he likes to watch in his spare time, and who with? Why would he care? Who's the actress he's talking about?
The single, abrupt word stands out amongst the others, and the detective looks up to see Spencer reaching out for him. Looking around, Lassiter checks that no one is looking, before holding his palm out awkwardly for Spencer to take.
no subject
Squinting, Shawn lets his mind wander back and recaptures noted and filed details sealed in his memory.
Hallway. Board. Crime scene fotos. Names.
Lassy's desk. Notes. More names. Numbers. Files.
Lassy. Body language. Clothes. A spot on his suit.
Wait. Back to hallway. Another desk. Spilled coffee on the papers.
"Ohh! I'm getting something!" Shawn writhes and mutters a curse. "Ow! You... damn, how could you possibly miss the edge of that desk! Your hip is not happy. Same for your coffee mug."
no subject
And now it was cracked and unusable.
"Now try telling me something useful, Spencer." He might have sneered a little.
no subject
"I guess I have to dig deeper..." He closes his eyes and runs his thumb over the detective's palm. "I can see something... I see... I see lines. A lot of lines. Why do I get lines? It's not your life line, I hope, because those lines are bad, they... hurt. The... killed someone. Oh my God, those are vicious lines! They... "
With a sudden yelp Shawn's body jolts into a series of spasms, still clinging to Lassiter's hand until his forehead hits the desk with a low thud. "I always hated that part of Jurassic Park. When they climb down that damned thing."
Sitting up again Shawn rubs his temple with his free hand. "An electrical fence. You don't think it was an accident."