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1. Argentinian Spanish
“—I promise, it’s really good! I rate it ten out of ten. Five stars. You would enjoy it! Just go with me, okay?” Shawn gives Juliet a look reminiscent of a puppy begging for a treat. She can’t help but laugh.
“Shawn, I don’t drink coffee. What reason do I have to go to a coffee shop?”
“They have more than just coffee! They have tea, and hot chocolate, and fun little fruit drinks… And pastries!”
“Wow, you’re really trying to sell this,” Juliet says, suppressing a grin.
“I am, I really am! Uh, they have… sandwiches? And cake! They have those… moon-shaped things.”
“Moon-shaped things,” she repeats incredulously.
“Yes! But they’re—bread—and they… gah, what are they called?” Shawn complains.
“I don’t know, you tell me!”
“I’m trying to! Oh no, this is really gonna bother me.” He scrubs his face with his hands, groaning. Juliet’s smile is getting hard to hide.
Shawn starts muttering to himself, and Juliet pulls her papers back in front of her. Maybe he’ll give up now? She glances up at him again, then clicks the end of her pen so she can start writing.
“MEDIALUNA!”
She drops her pen in surprise, and looks up. “What?” she asks, flabbergasted.
“Es ‘medialuna,’ right? The estúpido, pastel de luna francés??”
This clears up nothing.
“Are you… speaking Spanish?”
“¡Sí, Jules! Sabes bien el español, por favor dime que sabes español.”
“I do, I mean… sí, quiero? Shawn, why are you speaking Spanish.”
“‘Cause I forgot the palabra for medialuna!”
“I don’t… I don’t actually know what that means,” Juliet admits. Shawn makes a noise of frustration.
She snorts. “I’ll help you out. So it’s—you said it was shaped like a moon? Okay, like a circle or a crescent.”
“Segundo. Gah , second one. Crescent.”
“And it’s bread… wait, are you talking about a croissant?!”
Shawn throws his arms up, drawing some attention. “YES! That’s the one! Yes, a croissant. God. A croissant.”
“Wow.”
“I know! I know. How did I forget what a croissant was called?? Jules, I have no idea.”
She laughs. “You know what, you’ve convinced me. I will come with you to this coffee shop, and I will get a croissant.”
“Great, you’re gonna laugh at me the whole time!”
“Of course I will!” she assures, shoulders still shaking.
Shawn sighs heavily. “Well, see you later then.”
He gives her a cheery smile, and walks out of the precinct. Juliet finally returns to her work, but finds it a little more difficult to concentrate than normal. When did Shawn learn Spanish? He had seemed pretty lost on the set of Explosión Gigantesca de Romance .
2. Thai
“ No , Gus, you can’t make me choose between Val and Judd. They’re equal. Right here, in my heart.” Shawn cups his hands to make a heart over his literal one.
“Stop using their first names like you know them personally,” Gus complains. “It’s creepy.”
“It is not creepy . You’re creepy! And it’s weirder to say their last names. That’s a Lassie thing.”
“It is not just Lassiter who does that, Shawn.”
“That’s what you think.”
“What? That doesn’t make sense. Also, what’s wrong with saying their full names?”
“That’s worse! I can’t just say Val Kilmer every time, or Judd Nelson. That’s like calling you Burton Guster .” He physically shudders at the thought of it.
“That’s my name! It’s nor—” Gus is cut off by a knock at the door.
Shawn tilts his head back to yell. “Door’s open!”
The door squeaks open, and Gus takes the moment of silence to finish his words. “It’s a normal name, Shawn, just because you can’t see it…”
Shawn is already spinning his chair around to greet the client, ignoring Gus.
“Heyyy, what can Psych do for y—VICHAI!?!”
“Khun Shawn!” the man greets, a big smile on his face. Gus frowns, confused on who this is and why he would know Shawn.
Shawn stands up, and the other person says something to him in a foreign language before hugging him. Gus stands as well, unsure of what to do.
“Man, it’s great to see you, but what are you doing here?”
“I heard my old teacher had become a psychic, and I was hesitant to believe, then I heard you had found a dinosaur skull. I had to see you in person!” he responds in a heavy Thai accent.
Gus, however, focused on one part.
“TEACHER?!” he sputtered, unable to picture his flamboyant best friend teaching anyone—anything, really.
“Oh, yeah! Vichai, this is my best friend Gus; Gus, this is my student Vichai from when I taught English in Thailand.”
“You taught English. In Thailand.” He stares Shawn down.
“Yep! Hey, Vichai, คุณต้องการซื้อไอศกรีมหรือไม่?”
“Yes, แน่นอน.”
Shawn and Vichai head for the door, leaving Gus even more confused than he’d started. “Shawn???”
“ลาก่อน! See you later!”
“ลาก่อน!” Vichai calls as well, then the door closes behind them. Gus stands in the middle of the room, staring at the wall that separated him and the door.
“What just happened,” he asks himself. He doesn’t find an answer.
3. American Sign Language
Carlton storms out of the interrogation room, and his glare instantly finds Spencer. The consultant just quirks an eyebrow, looking vaguely amused, and he has to physically force his hands to unclench.
O’Hara, following much more calmly behind him, closes the door behind him before sighing heavily.
“We’re not getting anywhere,” she admits out loud.
“Goddamnit, the only witness we have and she’s refusing to speak! I wouldn’t be surprised if she was behind this too,” he complains.
“Carlton!” his partner admonishes. He just tilts his head, annoyed. He knows the woman in the interrogation room isn’t a murderer, but still, she came to them. Why isn’t she speaking?
“Lassie,” Spencer starts, and Carlton tries to make it clear with his expression that the fraud should shut the hell up. As per usual, this does not stop him.
“Lassie, I don’t think she can understand you.”
“If she doesn’t speak English, then whoever let her in should have told us that! We could have gotten a translator!”
Spencer instantly puts his hand up to his head, and Carlton sighs.
“I’m sensing that she gave the front desk a written note, and she read their lips to know where to go. The reason she can’t answer questions is because you’re chewing gum, and Jules isn’t very good at enunciating words to be readable.”
O’Hara has a soft inhale of realization, and Carlton turns to face the one-way mirror where their witness keeps pointing at her ears.
“...She’s trying to tell you she’s deaf,” Spencer finishes.
“Well—even if she can’t hear, that doesn’t mean she can’t speak! She could’ve told us that.”
Both O’Hara and Spencer give him annoyed looks, so he drops the subject.
“Should we… find some paper? For her to write the witness account?”
Carlton is about to agree with his partner when Spencer jumps in.
“I have a better idea!” He dashes for the door, and disappears into the room.
Carlton starts to go after him, but O’Hara lays her hand on his arm.
“Let him at least try.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. He takes a seat next to Guster, who hasn’t said a thing the whole time.
Inside the interrogation room, Spencer sits at the chair across from the witness. She tilts her head to the side, and he greets her with a… salute? She leans forward, clearly interested, and moves her hand to point at him, tap the side of her head with all her fingers, then rolls her fingers in a pointing position.
She’s not gesturing , Carlton realizes late. She’s using American Sign Language.
Spencer makes a fist and moves it up and down, then launches into signing using mostly one hand with a couple of two-handed signs. The witness responds, even faster, and Carlton quickly loses any understanding he might’ve had. He turns around to face the other occupants in the room, not wanting to watch Spencer one-up him.
“Oh my God,” O’Hara says. “Another one?”
“I’ve seen him signing in the office before,” Guster responds, looking confused. “I just didn’t know that was what he was doing.”
“What do you mean another one?” Carlton half-growls. He’s annoyed at Spencer finding another way to beat him, sue him.
O’Hara and Guster exchange glances.
“...I uh. Shawn was talking to me about a week ago, and he switched to Spanish mid-conversation. He’s way more fluent in it than he seemed in the telenova case. Although I think it was a different dialect?” O’Hara reveals.
Guster nods. “Argentinian. And a couple days ago, one of his old students from Thailand came by the office and they started talking in Thai!”
“Hmmm…” Movement catches his eye, and Spencer enters the viewing room grinning.
“So?” O’Hara asks expectantly.
“Her name is Claire Williams, she saw the murder happen when it was reflected in the glass of a window passing by a Starbucks across the street. She saw a man dressed in a dark blue sweater and black pants kill Quinton in the alley we found him in, and she’s pretty sure that the cameras at the Starbucks could’ve picked that up.”
Carlton glances at O’Hara, and she nods. “Sounds like we need to check that out.”
On the way out, he begrudgingly adds, “Good work, Spencer.” He did find them a lead, after all.
4. Italian
“...combatterò, per dirti che, io credo in noi…” someone sings quietly. Juliet backtracks to the interrogation room she had just passed, poking her head inside this time.
“—chè per me, lo sai, sei musica nell'animaaaa. Hi Jules!” Shawn greets. His sneakers up on the metal table, he balances the chair precariously on its back two legs while writing in a notebook.
“Hey Shawn.” She blinks at him in mild confusion. Why is he in the interrogation room? What is he writing? What language is he singing in? Why does he know so many languages???
“D’ya need something? A little psychic pizazz, perhaps?”
“Nope! No, I’m good. Uh, was just… surprised to see you in here, is all.”
“I’m communicating with the spirits,” he intones.
“...Uh-huh.”
Juliet leaves him to it, hearing him pick up the song again as she walks away. What is this, the fourth language?
5. Welsh
“Great,” Carlton intones, staring down at a piece of paper the missing person had left behind. “I don’t even know where to start with this one.”
The paper, torn out of a notebook, was found taped to Elis Wynne’s pillow while the detectives were investigating his missing case. It’s entirely written in another language, which is why they’re having difficulties understanding it.
And before they can find a translator, they have to identify the language.
“It’s similar to Scottish Gaelic,” O’Hara offers. “Maybe it’s Irish?”
“No. It’s definitely not.”
“Hm.”
The answer feels like it’s on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach. What’s the other language similar to Scottish and Irish Gaelic? He hates when this happens, he should know the answer to this!
“Oh hey guys!” an obnoxious voice greets them.
Carlton groans, any progress in thinking immediately lost. “ What are you doing here.”
“Well, that’s no way to greet your handsome coworker with an affinity for speaking for those beyond!” Spencer protests. He raises his hand to his head and winks. “Jules, whatcha got for me?”
“Uh, not much. Just this note, I think.”
The fraud makes a grabbing motion. “Lemme see!”
“Absolutely not—” O’Hara takes it out of his hand and gives it over. Carlton sighs as loudly as physically possible.
“Ooh! Welsh,” Spencer says upon seeing it. Guster, standing behind his shoulder, widens his eyes and looks at O’Hara with an expression conveying something.
Meanwhile, Carlton is extremely frustrated that Spencer got the language right on the first try. He should’ve thought of that!
Spencer hums to himself, moving his eyes along the note as if reading it. No wait, there was no way this circus clown knew another language—
“Okay! So this guy mentions gangs a couple of times, threatening situations, et cetera, et cetera. And uh, looks like he went to hide out in… Fflatiau cant a naw on Alta… on Alta Vista street, that one apartment building, number 109,” he translates the basics of the note for the detectives.
“What the heck, Shawn,” Guster says accusingly. Carlton agrees.
“I—Okay, yeah. Let’s go find him. Thanks, Shawn,” O’Hara visibly shakes herself, trying to focus on the investigation.
“Let’s go,” Carlton briskly echoes, exiting the house. He doesn’t want to dwell on the implications of this idiot knowing five languages right now.
+1. French
“I’m so sorry, he hasn’t answered his phone all day,” Gus apologizes. He fumbles with keys that try to slip out of his hands, why did Shawn decide to lock the door to the Psych Office today? He always forgets.
“It’s fine, it’d just be really nice to get his input, and maybe see if he could find anything out from her ghost,” Juliet placates. Gus grimaces vaguely at the mention of his best friend’s so-called psychic powers, but finally finds the right key.
He unlocks the door, walking in barely a step before stopping past the entryway, mouth hanging as far open as it could get. Behind him, Juliet inhales sharply, and Lassiter mutters angrily, both just as surprised at the scene as he is.
Pierre Despereaux , international criminal for fraud and theft, is standing in between Shawn’s legs from where he’s sitting on his desk. Having not noticed the door opening, or the three people staring at them, Despereaux continues speaking French in low tones to his best friend.
“Alors prouvez-le, mon beau,” Shawn returns. He hooks a finger in Despereaux’s tie, pulling him down, and oh my god .
Gus is pretty sure he makes an undignifying squeak when they kiss, and as soon as it looks like they’re getting more into it, he backs up as fast as possible and closes the door.
He locks it for good measure, then finally turns around to make eye contact with Juliet.
“Um,” Juliet says, cheeks pink. Her eyes are as wide as Gus’ feel. “Maybe we can… come back later?”
Gus moves his eyes in the direction of Lassiter’s, and immediately shrinks. The Head Detective looks furious.
“Uh-huh! Yep, yeah, we’re leaving,” Gus gets out, voice still squeaky, and he speed-walks to the Blueberry.
Of all the languages Shawn speaks, this is definitely the least surprising. Of course Shawn would learn a language just to seduce a French criminal.