#fic!shawn

[goofalicousgooberface]

I love how Shawn has had so many jobs. The show doesn’t use it nearly enough. Like. Oh, you’re air conditioning is broken? Guess who worked as an A/C repairman for a week and a half. Need the best seasoning to go on your steak? Shawn worked as a cook at a barbecue joint for three weeks. Need help with your makeup for a fancy dinner date? Guess which psychic was a makeup artists for three days.

[marlenacantswim]

shassie as a dynamic works so well imo because shawn is dialectically a genius and an idiot while lassie is dialectically badass and pathetic. thus, in the most ideal scenario, they're a scarily effective power duo of whip-smart deduction and ruthless tactical intimidation, but when you flip them to the other sides of their spectrums they become Two Losers Making Asses Of Themselves, both of whom constantly try to hoist themselves back to the other end by using the other as a counterweight.

[boom-bada-boom]

shawn spencer, through a series of comedic should-be-impossible hijinks, gets turned into a cat without anyone knowing its him. he elects to hang around the station and help out however much his four paws can.

hilariously, it doesn’t change that much.

some notes:

hes brownish-orange (kinda like henry’s hair in flashbacks??) which means he is close enough that he has the orange cat curse™

trying to decide on what breed he is. obviously mixed but what is in the mix?? main thoughts are havana, bengal, and siamese

okay final thoughts: bengal-siamese mix with a havana-like coloring for both eyes and coat.

hes a chatty cattyyyyyyyyyy,,,,,,,, yapper frfr

dog-person lassie and cat-person jules (she canonically has two cats)

he is so indecisive on if he should try and communicate that he is shawn to the station. on one hand theyd know hes safe and maybe be able to help him fix this. on the other jules has literally played fetch with him. a few officers have hand fed him. several cat things occurred. he would never live this all down (human shawn after hes asked where he was for like two months: (heavy sweating) i dont remember)

shawn sleeping in lassie’s chair and on his lap. he started doing it for the laughs but now he has realized that oh no this is actually comfy. tragedy.

half the station supports shawn’s cat shenanigans. a third just take videos. the remaining sixth try to call animal control on shawn but he always gets away and hes back in the station like two hours later so eventually they give up lmao

while all this is happening the station is also stressing because of shawn’s disappearance. they cant find any evidence for what happened. shawn went out to pursue a lead and just vanished. consequently, shawn is trying to make them all feel better with cat shenanigans

he refuses to use a litter box. it does not matter that he is so so small now he is using the fucking toilet. (the officers start leaving the bathroom door open a crack so he can slip in lmao)

shawn reading over case files while sitting on them. hes participating (and solving them)

shawn as a human accidentally left a pineapple stress toy in the station (maybe on some forgotten corner of lassie’s desk or smth lmao) and as a cat he rediscovers it and decides to play ball using it. all this to say that people start calling him pineapple because of it. honestly hes quite happy with that name over some other possibilities

jules is the only one allowed to touch the pineapple toy. he doesnt trust lassie not to try and dump it or something like the spiteful person he is and he certainly doesnt want anyone else touching it. (he would allow lassie to touch the pineapple toy if it werent for that fact though)

(shawn very carefully putting the pineapple toy down in front of lassie for the first timeand staring up with his big ole eyes and lassie stares back and externally his expression is hella flat but internally hes like oh no. oh no its growing on me)

BIG NEWS: cats can in fact eat pineapple, just not a lot since as a fruit it has a lot of sugar (not good for cats), HOWEVER… “It’s hard to see why because cats don’t have the taste buds that let them enjoy sweet flavors. The strong sweet and tangy taste of pineapple is mostly lost on them.”

shawn finally managing to get someone (probably buzz) to give him some pineapple only to be utterly HEARTBROKEN bc it DOESNT TASTE LIKE PINEAPPLE ANYMORE !!!!!!!!!

juliet holding him like a little baby as he is purring like a freight train

LASSITER HOLDING HIM LIKE LONGCAT AS HE IS WAILING LIKE THE DAMNED

literallyyyyyy thisss,,,,

he breaks into the chief’s office to lounge on her desk and she gives him hardcore side eye before, after a while, just sighing and starting to pet him. “this station doesn’t exactly need a mascot, you know,” she tells him, to a reply of mrrp, “but i suppose a little bit of cheering up wouldn’t be too bad.” very carefully, she taps him on the nose. “but not too much. this is a serious line of work—no making a mockery of my station.” the dull thunking of a tail smacking repeatedly into solid wood made no promises.

inconceivable amounts of cat fur everywhere and on everyone. no one can brush him because he wriggles away like an eel and dramatically grooms his fur out of their reach. so he just sheds everywhere. hes got a thick coat there is so. much. fur.

he keeps sneaking into crime scenes. no one is sure how but they suspect he is hitchhiking in lassiter’s car. no one can prove it tho bc they cant fucking find him. the crazy thing is that he leads them to evidence sometimes like a narcotics detection dog but with completely random items that usually seem nonsensical at first. until they prove otherwise. consistently.

lassie to himself: man this feels just like dealing with spencer’s psychic shit. weird.

GUS FIGURES IT OUT FIRST. not because he saw anything but he just saw a newspaper about this cat solving crime with the cops and he was like “oh my fucking god. it can’t be.” and then he pulled up to the station yoinked said cat and went to an isolated corner to freak the fuck out with it. “shawn what the hell happened” he goes, and shawn meows with feeling

juliet watching gus talk to pineapple the station cat in the corner of the bullpen: ???????

several cops having the all-important conversation of what to label him as. theres no snappy cat version of K9 they can use. K9 is supposed to sound like “canine” but there’s no letter to cover the fel in“feline”

some say F9 and some say L9 and a few say FL9 or just straight up FEL9

BY THE WAY!!!!! “Police cats are becoming an increasingly popular addition to law enforcement teams around the world. These feline officers are being trained to assist their human counterparts in various aspects of police work, from sniffing out drugs and explosives to providing comfort and emotional support to officers on duty” SND ALSO “Because they are uncommon, police cats receive a lot of press. Many show up regularly in media posts. If your local department has a police cat, don’t be surprised if you see stories about them on the news”

police cats are a real thing!! shawn is not an official police cat but he is at this point an unofficial one. on rare occasions he might even listen to an order or two (the station thinks he may have been specially trained by some probably-illegal group or smth, escaped, and decided to imprint on the station) (btw this is an actual issue with some police cats. as independent creatures theyre not as predictable as dogs and might not follow orders, which is an issue in high stakes situations n shit)

[moonpascal]

i can’t watch movies/tv shows anymore. at least older ones, because then i develop a massive crush on them, and then there is nothing written for them or very few.

[catgrandpa]

So I’m rewatching Psych and has anybody considered that that’s Tim Drake?

I absolutely need a fic of Tim scamming his way into police work by claiming he’s a psychic, but it’s just his regular deductive reasoning plus evidence he’s collected as Red Robin.

It’s so ridiculous that everyone looks past the part where he’s proving to be the World’s Greatest Detective 2.0, and it ends up being the perfect cover.

Brucie could never.

[mendesblurb]

We were staying in Paris

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning ⚠️: mostly fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors

Word count:~500

A/N: The story idea and concept are classic and predictable; your girl just couldn’t help but write something inspired by this picture. Also, it’s three weeks late; better late than never? And this is my first story in 2024? 🙈 P.S. Should I write a longer and maybe some more steamy story with this picture? 🤪

——//

In the heart of Paris, in a hotel room with a balcony overlooking the city that served as the backdrop for a love story as it was unfolding in the early hours of dawn. You lay nestled in the warmth of the bed beside your boyfriend as your fingers intertwined with his. As the first tendrils of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Shawn stirred awake, his eyes blinking open to the soft glow of morning. 

He savoured the moment's stillness a little while before gently extricating himself from the embrace, slipping out of bed, and heading to the bathroom. The cool floor beneath his bare feet offers a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the bed. He was going to return to bed, but instead, he made his way to the balcony, drawn by the promise of a tranquil morning amidst the bustling city below.

As he leaned against the railing, taking in the breathtaking view before him, he couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the Parisian skyline bathed in the soft hues of dawn. The Eiffel Tower stood tall and majestic in the distance, a precious sight. Lost in thought, he reached for a cigarette, the flame casting a flickering glow on his face as he took a contemplative drag.

Unbeknownst to him, you had stirred awake in his absence, your gaze lingering on the spot where he had once laid.

There you were, quietly making your way to the balcony, and you found him lost in reverie with the smoke curling around him like a halo in the morning light. With a soft throat clearing, you announced your presence, a playful glint dancing in your eyes.

"Good morning, stranger," You greeted, voice laced with amusement as you wrapped your arms around him from behind.

A little startled, he turned to find you standing before him, a radiant smile lighting up her features as he leaned in for a kiss.

"Good morning, ma chÃrie," He greeted back before discarding his cigarette and nestling closer. It didn’t take long for his eyes to linger around you, and eventually falling upon the shirt you were wearing, a mischievous twinkle lighting up his gaze, “I believe that’s my shirt.” 

"Oh yeah, I hope you don't mind," You began, fingers tracing the fabric of the shirt, "I may have borrowed this from you,” You continued slyly as your lips curled into a grin as he took in the sight of you wearing his shirt, the fabric draping over your frame in a way that seemed almost too perfect.

"Shirt stealer," he remarked, his voice tinged with sincerity as he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Moments later, as the sun continued its ascent, casting a golden glow over the city, you both remained on the balcony, lost in each other's embrace and the beauty of the Parisian sunrise. 

"By the way, I'm never returning this shirt,” You added, breaking the silence with a mischievous grin. 

In response, Shawn just chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection, “Thank you for letting me know," he replied, pulling  you closer than before, “But It looks better on you anyway."

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️

Taglist (open) : @monikamendes @holland-styles @bvttercupbby @lonelyreputation @badreputationlove @shawn-is-my-giant-jellybean @benito-mi-vida @swiftmendeshoran @yournameoneverypage @shawn-is-bruh @mendesbhraanth @perfectlywrongformendes @imaginashawnn @smendes-forever @nervousmendes @whenyoureadyholland @shawn-youth @myboyshawn @camilalewiss @camilalewisss @theregoesmyherojd @nanijaac1 @shawnieeboyy @silverswallow @inlovewithmendes-blog @mendeslola-blog @mendesx123 @23kofmendes @jellyloml @chipofmendes @poohofmendes @wutheringmendes @shawnmendesbuddy @chocochipcookie305 @shiningshawns

Story Code:05042409

[strangenewwords]

Shassie still a thing?

[limeskittlesaredecent]

i wish Psych made Shawn suffer more. sorry but i like it when my favorite characters are subject to massive amounts of whump :(

like i really enjoy 4x09 (Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark) and 7x01 (Santabarbaratown 2) in particular bc they’ve got the physical and emotional pain. The Yin/Yang saga is excellent ofc.

that being said. this is why fan fiction exists 😄

if anyone has any h/c psych fic recs… i would love to see them :)

[goofalicousgooberface]

Who wants to be psych mutuals and be insane about them..

[the-halfling-prince]

My mom ran away with the trailer and my dad abandoned me to find her I need to *remembers that suicide jokes do nothing but worsen my mental state* adopt a pig

[icyfox17]

The demons got to me... Anyways here's the first snipp of a 911 x Psych crossover lmfao

"A psychic detective?" Eddie's unconvinced voice rings out in the station's kitchen. "Yeah!" Buck replies, chipper as ever as he puts together a PBJ sandwich. "The amount of cases he's solved is crazy. And—! He even uncovered a dinosaur skeleton. I've been meaning to drive to Santa Barbara to see it. Maybe I'll take Christopher—” "A psychic detective," Eddie repeats, having barely processed anything else Buck had said. He chuckles. “You can't—you can't seriously think this is real.” “Eddie, he's been working with the SBPD for years. Don't you think if he was a fake they would've found out by now?” Buck asks, and his voice sounds so genuine Eddie kind of wants to cry. “Buck. Buck. Magic isn't real. There is no way that he's actually psychic. It's a publicity stunt! Makes the SBPD stand out or something.” “Just you wait and see Eds. Once you meet him, you'll have to believe it.” Buck says, pointing at Eddie with the most obnoxious grin on his face. Eddie can't help but feel fond at the sight of it. Sure Buck’s an idiot, but at least he's a cute one. Eddie gives up on having this argument with him. No matter what Buck says, he won't be convinced. They couldn't convince him with the jinxes (although some small part of him is still slightly freaked out about that) and they won't convince him with this psychic detective, not even if he's the most sophisticated all-knowing person ever. ~*~ “Gus, how many burritos do you think I can fit in my mouth? My money's on six, but maybe if I shove them in horizontally…” He reaches over to grab the cooler from beside Gus in the back seat, but Jules slaps his hand away. “Shawn, seriously? Those burritos are for everyone.” Shawn huffs, crossing his arms with a pout. “Yeah well, we've been in this car for hours, and I'm starving to death.” “It's been an hour Shawn,” Gus�� voice pops up from the backseat and Shawn shoots him a betrayed look. “Whose side are you on?!” Gus tilts his head. “The side that makes sure that I still have some burritos for myself.” He then opens up the same cooler that Shawn was just trying to reach into, and pulls out a perfectly tinfoil wrapped burrito that he delicately peels away. His eyes are alight with glee as he unhinges his jaw and prepares to take the biggest bite known to man, when Shawn twists around in his seat and grips Gus’ arm, pulling it and the burrito away from his mouth. “That burrito is mine sucker!” Shawn calls out, trying to take the burrito for himself. “Oh no you don't, Shawn!!” The two of them struggle back and forth, causing the car to shake slightly, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that Gus is a backstabber and Shawn needs his burrito! “Guys!” Jules’ voice calls out sharp, and the two of them freeze—Gus’ left hand smushed into Shawn's face, and Shawn’s free hand gripping Gus’ throat in a chokehold, their other hands wrapped tightly around the burrito in a tug of war. She outstretches her right hand, keeping her left hand on the wheel, and makes a grabbing motion. The two of them dejectedly give the burrito into her palm and she huffs, smiling. “Thank you. We have one more hour to go. You can both eat one burrito, okay? The rest are for when we get there.” She then takes a satisfied chomp of the burrito in her hand.

[secretobsessionstuff]

Hi hi, I love your work :D Never really got the nerve to send an ask in to say that tbh. If you don't mind, I have a request for a scenario you could possibly do B) No pressure though!! (If you do end up writing this I don't have a preference for any specific characters, but I'm soft for male characters.)

I'm so soft for scenes where a character is sick, but whoever they tell just don't believe them. I'm also soft for when a character coughs hard enough to get sick. If possible could you write something combining those? Or even just one or the other would be great too!! Thanks :D

Thank you for the request and the kind words!! I'm going with the first option because I too am soft for disbelieving caretakers.

------------

Shawn was a man of culture. In the Canadian museum of history, he thoroughly admired every bench, chair, and sofa with his scholarly behind. The current gallery boasted an impressive collection of fucking postage stamps. Shawn dropped his head into his hands with an exaggerated huff. Kill me now.

A mass of whining school children flocked past him, not giving a second thought to the pale and lifeless man lounging on the bench. His boyfriend was lost somewhere in the sea of families and tour groups, probably admiring the royal collection of [redacted]. Shawn didn’t care anymore. He wanted to go back to the Airbnb. 

“Are you going to sulk the entire time?” Mateo had asked as the two of them received their admission tickets. 

“I’m not sulking,” Shawn sulked.  

“Yeah, okay.” Mateo walked further on ahead, determined to enjoy the one event he had specifically requested. “I just wish you would get excited over things I care about.” 

Shawn scrunched his eyes up tight, tired of hearing this. “Hon, you know I care.” His voice was weepy with an edge of annoyance. “I told you, I’m just not feeling up to this.” 

“I recall,” Mateo said, not looking back. “Your malaise came on at such a convenient time.” 

It wasn’t Shawn’s fault that his stomach decided to reject breakfast at precisely that time. He couldn’t control the churning in his gut. The eggs and hashbrowns he had eaten earlier floated in a bath of grease in his belly. He swore he could hear the chirping of baby chicks that did not appreciate being digested. They cried out in his stomach, cursing him for scrambling their potential lives. 

A growing pocket of air forced Shawn into a sitting position. As he straightened his spine, the burp easily rose in his chest. The belch filled his mouth with the taste of sulphur, making him shiver. For the next ten minutes, he concentrated on settling his stomach. He was so lost in thoughts of nausea and discomfort that he did not notice Mateo had approached him. 

“Onto the next exhibit, then.” Mateo waited for Shawn to get up. He seemed almost nonchalant, but underneath it was a longing to experience the museum with his boyfriend. He wanted to hold Shawn’s hand as they walked through the halls. Unfortunately, Shawn kept his hands in his pockets and his head tucked into his neck. “I’m sorry the morning is boring for you. I promise we’ll do something fun later.” 

“I’m not bored, Teo,” Shawn mumbled in between burps. He pressed his fist into his mouth, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “This isn’t my first choice of activity, but I really do want you to enjoy it.” 

Mateo swung his hand at his side, purposefully touching his boyfriend’s arm. “I want to enjoy it with you.” 

“I know.” He smiled sadly. “But I am honestly feeling…Just blah.” 

“Blah?” 

“Blahughuh, in fact.” Shawn forced a smirk that didn’t stick because he felt a ripple of nausea move through his belly. “It’s just my stomach—it’s so gurgly and full.” 

“Maybe it will settle down after one more exhibit.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Well, then you will definitely start feeling better after two more exhibits.” 

“…Mateo.” 

“What?” Mateo said playfully, still not totally taking his boyfriend seriously. “Give it two more exhibits. Your stomach probably just needs time to digest. If you still feel bad after that, then we’ll leave.” 

Shawn did not think that was a good idea, but he let his boyfriend run ahead to the next gallery. He lagged behind like a parent watching their child enjoy themselves. He would have smiled at the way Mateo absorbed himself in the history and culture that so many people dismissed, but a smile would not come to his lips. He kept his mouth pressed into a hard line to keep the nausea at bay. 

Something was horribly wrong in his stomach. The queasiness made his throat feel like it was blocked by a lump of clay. How long was Mateo going to take? Shawn didn’t know how much longer he could last. He walked at a zombie-like pace through the gallery, keeping a hand on his bloated middle. Something squirmed beneath his palm. He imagined bright yellow worms, the colour of scrambled eggs, writhing in his belly. 

Saliva filled his mouth, flooding his tongue with a warm, uncomfortable feeling. Fuck, where was Mateo? Shawn staggered about, feeling his jaw grow heavy. His whole body was telling him to get out of there. 

He found his boyfriend in the corner of the exhibit, reading an informational poster on the wall next to colourful minerals. 

“Teo?” he said after swallowing thickly. The mouthful of thick saliva came right back. “I want to leave now.” 

“Fine.” Mateo sighed, not yet looking at Shawn. “Give me two minutes.” 

Shawn whimpered. He did not have two minutes. His belly gave him two seconds after belching wetly into his hand before it forced its contents up his throat. He braced himself on the wall as a deep retch overtook him. 

Sludgy vomit fell past his lips, splattering on the floor with a wet squelching sound. Nearby people gasped and quickly deserted the area. Shawn put another hand against the wall as his back arched again. There was no stopping this now that it started. 

“Whoa shit,” Mateo said, quickly turning around to take in the sight of his heaving boyfriend. A puddle of pale brown chunks had formed at Shawn’s feet. He placed a gentle hand between Shawn’s shoulder blades. “Oh babes, I’m so sorry.” 

Shawn wanted to say something acidic, but his mouth was again filled with chunky sick. He parted his lips to let the rush of vomit join the growing mess. His poor belly gurgled and constricted. Tears clouded Shawn’s vision. He couldn’t stop the flood from coming. Everything had to come up. 

“Ugh, I can’t stop.” Shawn gagged. He sniffled and wiped at his face before the second gag proved productive. More of the bitter tasting crap came up from the burbling pit of his belly. A sob broke free in between bouts. Drool and snot hung from his chin. 

Mateo’s heart squeezed in his chest. “Shh, Shawn, babe. It’ll be over soon.” 

These cooing words did not fix anything. It did not stop Shawn from gagging, nor did it ease the ache in Mateo’s chest. The mess on the floor was his fault. The sobbing mess of a man was also his fault. None of this would have happened if Mateo had listened the first time. They could have been in a private area, probably curled up in each other’s lap, but no. He decided to prolong his boyfriend’s suffering. 

Finally, Shawn coughed and cleared his throat. His chest rose rapidly in attempt to take in more air. “Ugh God.” The words glued to his throat, coming out wet and thick. “That fucking sucked. I feel disgusting.” 

Mateo rubbed his boyfriend’s shaking back. “Come on. Let’s clean you up in the bathroom.” 

They turned around to find a janitor wheeling a mop bucket in their direction. Shawn’s face turned red, and he allowed himself to be ushered away by Mateo. He pushed the embarrassment deep down and clung to his boyfriend for good measure. 

“So, this is what Blahughuh means,” Mateo said while he wiped Shawn’s face with a wet paper towel. 

Shawn hiccupped and mumbled, “I thought I made myself pretty clear.” 

“You did. I’m sorry.” Mateo rubbed his thumb softly over Shawn’s cheek. “I should have taken you more seriously.” 

“Yeah, I shouldn’t need to puke everywhere for you to listen.” Shawn winced at the spasm that went through his belly. “I might need to go again.” 

Mateo raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What did you do to your poor stomach? Did that breakfast place poison you?” 

“That’s a very possible…possibility.”

Mateo pouted at his grey-ish looking boyfriend. He kissed his forehead. “Time to go. I'll get you a bag for the car.” 

“Five more minutes?” 

Mateo smacked his arm. “Stop, I hate myself.” 

[juliets-roller-derby-awesomeness]

[skarkkk]

Fanfic about the scene of Erik killing Shawn on the beach, with any consequences for Charles - angst, but with a happy ending. Please.

[angelwiththeblue-box]

shassie fanfic writers need to take more advantage of the lie detector the hurt/comfort could be so could

[returnsandreturns]

@snakeoilsalesdepartment, I saw you reblog the original one and my brain spit this out. For you:

All that Foggy hears is someone frantically saying, “Kiss me,” before he makes eye contact with an objectively hot guy and kisses him first. The guy backs him up against the nearest tree and they make out for about a minute before the guy backs up.

“We could have stopped that like forty five seconds ago,” the guy says, breathlessly, patting Foggy's arm, “but you're an extremely good kisser, dude. Gentle but firm, somehow. Props for that.”

“Thanks,” Foggy says, laughing. “Are you going to explain what just happened? Did you suddenly get hit with the need to kiss someone and I was the closest person? I'm Foggy, by the way.”

“Shawn Spencer,” Shawn says, “and I'll have you know that I am extremely discerning about the people I kiss to hide myself from the very large men who chase me because they think I cheated at poker games that I actually won because I have a keen sense of observation and, also, natural charm.”

Foggy takes a second to process that sentence.

“Are you implying that you're chased by large men frequently?” he asks.

“I live a wayward life, Foggy,” Shawn says. “I'm a nomad. A vagabond. Frequently unemployed. So, I occasionally sneak into high stakes poker games to keep food in my belly and gel in my hair. The essentials.”

“You seem. . .very interesting,” Foggy says, slowly.

“You have the softest hair I've ever had the honor of touching,” Shawn says, reaching up to tuck Foggy's hair behind his ear which is stupidly charming, “and a truly stunning smile. What do you say we ride this moment out as long as we can? Coffee? Laser tag? Gay sex?”

“Let's. . .start with coffee,” Foggy says, grinning and letting Shawn throw an arm around him as they walk. “See how it goes.”

—

“How did you know I was into guys?” Foggy asks, when they're tucked away in the corner of a small coffee shop.

“Oh, I didn't,” Shawn says. “You just had a kind face that also said ‘strong ally or a Kinsey two and a half,’ so I figured you probably wouldn't punch me, at least. Then you kissed me, y’know, the way that you did, and blushed when I touched your hair. Adorable, by the way.”

Foggy blushes again, shaking his head when Shawn beams at him.

“Adorable,” he repeats. “So, laser tag?”

“Or gay sex,” Foggy says.

“I'd be interested in exploring a hybrid of both,” Shawn says, warmly, “but I'll admit, the second one sounds—oh, shit.”

He grabs a pen from Foggy's messenger bag and scrawls out a phone number on a napkin before giving Foggy a firm kiss, saying, “Please call me,” and jumping over the table to run out of the coffee shop.

Closely followed by multiple very large men.