Dr. Wyatt.
Wyatt': Ah, Agent Booth is it? Yes, Gordon. Gordon Wyatt. (extends his hand to Booth but instead of his hand Booth pulls out a piece of paper from his back pocket)
Great. You the shrink?
Shrink, yes, meaning psychiatrist.
That's great, Doc. How's about you just sign my piece of paper here and I'll get back to work, right?
Certainly. (Booth hands him a pen) No, no, I have a pen. Do you mind if I ask what exactly it was that you did?
Yeah, I shot a truck.
Ah, full of terrorists no doubt or plutonium or fleeing felons, was it?
Nah, it was an ice cream truck.
You have a good reason for firing on it?
Yeah, the music, it was bothering me.
Ah.
Yeah, there was a speaker in the clown's mouth? Yeah, I just pulled out my gun, you know, bum-bum-bum. It was gone.
(folding the paper without signing it) So, the FBI sent you to me because you shot a clown?
Not a real clown.
(handing Booth the paper back) I suggest you cogitate on the underlying reasons why you shot that clown while I make us some tea. (goes into the house)
Cogitate? Tea
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