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“Spencer. Guster,” Lassiter growled, holstering his weapon. “I assume you’re here because of the stolen shipment of high-grade artisanal wax?”

“I’m better than okay. I’m inspired.” Shawn scrambled up. “Inside this building is the secret to why your future brother-in-law, a man named ‘Chet,’ has no digital footprint before 2014 and smells faintly of elderberries.” “He’s a botanist, Shawn!”

“You’ve been Gusted,” Shawn shouted, appearing out of nowhere to strike a psychic pose.