memories, psych [ 1 ]

013. poker

"I got 10 bucks says you can't make this shot." Gus says, holding up a paper ball as he's playing trash basketball. He throws the paper ball into the hoop, it landing in the trashcan.

"Gus, I can't take your money." Shawn says.

"That's right because you can't make the shot." Gus says.

"How much do I get?" Vanessa asks, sitting in the armchair.

"10 bucks." Gus says. Vanessa holds her hand out and Gus gives her the paper ball. She doesn't even get up from the chair as she throws the ball at the hoop, getting it in.

"10 bucks, please." She smiles, holding her hand out. Gus rolls his eyes, giving her the money.

"I could easily make the shot which is why I can't take your money." Shawn says. "There's no sport in it."

"I say you're all mouth." Gus says.

"I'm all mouth?"

"Yep."

"All right." Shawn says. He rips out a page from the magazine he's reading and rolls his chair over to Gus who gives him the paper ball and Shawn adds the magazine page to it. He stands up.

"Sail straight, my precious." He tells the ball. He kisses it before shooting as Gus blows on him, but Shawn still scores the shot.

"Looks like you're out 20 bucks, Gussie." Vanessa comments.

"Okay. Double or nothing. Trivia question this time." Gus says. "History."

"Glover Cleveland." Shawn answers.

"Damn!" Gus curses. "How do you do that?"

"It's the sweetness." Shawn says.

"So... this is how you spend your days." Henry says, walking in.

"Oh, my God. Dad... what are you doing here?" Shawn asks.

"Nice. Is that the way you greet all the people that come through your door?" Henry asks.

"That's exactly how I greet everyone. Maybe that's why business is down." Shawn says.

"Are you going to invite me in?" Henry asks.

"Oh, yeah, please--" Shawn cuts Gus off.

"Whoa! This could be a trick. What's the rules with vampires? Don't they have to be invited in."

"What are you talking about, Shawn?"

"Gus, you've seen Lost Boys 14 times. What's the rule?"

"You're on your own." Gus walks to his desk as Henry walks in.

"Is this all there is?" Henry asks.

"Actually this is the, uh, satellite office. Main headquarters is in an underground ice cave Gus, Nessa, and I sculpted last winter." Shawn says.

"What about your license?" Henry asks.

"My pilot's license? It's out back in the Cessna, or perhaps you're referring to my license to kill. Revoked. Problems at the Kazakhstan border. I could give you the details, but then I'd have to kill you, which I can't do because my license to kill has been revoked."

"I'm talking about your private eye license." Henry says. "What, you need one, don't you?"

"Psychics are exempt from the requirements." Gus informs.

"Oh, well, hooray for loopholes." Henry lazily waves his hands around. "A little dark. Could probably use a couple more lamps. You're probably killing your eyes. That outlet... looks a little overloaded. That plasma, you'd probably do better by putting it on that wall. You'd have less glare coming in through the window in the afternoon--"