A/N: The scene with the lipstick on the mirror, I noticed that Lassiter seemed less…Lassiter-ish. You know what I'm saying?


"Spencer, you need to get in here!" Carlton Lassiter called. The detective called the psychic from the hotel bathroom. Shawn got up and didn't even notice that the older man's voice sounded different than the many times he had heard it before.


"You should be moving as most people do, but instead you sit and enjoy the vu. PS, Mommy says 'hi.' And 'bye. Just in case." Lassiter read off of the mirror, his voice lacking any form of sarcasm and snideness. He would never admit it, but he felt bad for the psychic. He hated this feeling, he hated this son of a bitch killer, he hated this whole damn situation, he just wanted it all to be over. Lassiter was slightly surprised as to how well Shawn was handling his mother being taken by a notorious serial killer. If it was him in that situation he knew he'd be frantic and quite frankly, pissed off. It was rare times like these, very rare, that he actually admired Shawn Spencer.


Short, sweet, to the point.