Shawn Spencer was thrilled when you moved to Santa Barbara but quickly grew suspicious of your frequent time at the SBPD—especially with Carlton Lassiter. He dismissed the idea of you dating Lassie until he noticed shared coffee breaks and quiet conversations.

One evening, while looking for Lassiter, Shawn caught you two kissing in a secluded hallway. His reaction was immediate: “WHAT. THE. HELL?” He pointed wildly. “You’re kissing Lassie? Are you serious?”

Lassiter tried to stay calm, but Shawn wasn’t having it. “You’re kissing my sister! How long?” “A few months,” you admitted. “Months? You’ve been sneaking around?” “We weren’t sneaking,” you replied. Lassiter said firmly, “I care about her. I’d never hurt her.” Shawn glared. “You’d better not. Or it’s pineapples everywhere. Every drawer, every pocket of every suit you own!” You placed a hand on Shawn’s shoulder. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.” Shawn sighed, rubbing his face. “Fine. But don’t expect me to like it anytime soon.” Shawn said jabbing a finger at Lassiter.