Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist or any of its related characters or themes.

AN1: 4th edition of my 10-part drabble song-series.

AN2: Based on 'Beatboxing Harmonica' by Yuri Lane.

AN3: some OC-ness coming your way LOLz.

AN4: Yes, I'm totally embarrassed by the horrible name-gaming, but it just worked so well xD

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It's Cho Time

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Cho's been staring at him for the past few minutes.

Unblinking.

Intimidating.

It probably would've been less frightening to have a staring contest with a spitting cobra.

An angry spitting cobra.

And, the worst part is, Cho's not doing anything.

His face is placid. Calm. Unruffled.

It's like this little incident never even occurred.

But it did.

And it's killing Rigsby, because he just knnnoooowwwsss that any moment now, Cho will vault over the table and beat him senseless. Or just tazer him. And those are the better-options.

There are many, many more painful and Cho-like ways for him to be tortured.

Yes, tortured.

And Cho-torture is worse than regular torture.

And regular torture includes electric-shocks and walking the plank.

But, right now, Wayne is pretty sure he's at the edge of the preverbial plank and about to take a plunge into the briny deep. A snooze in the salty drink. A dive in the waters of mortality.

He's even too scared to apologize.

It's like, no matter what he'll say... no matter how logical, sincere, flippant or rude... it'll set off detonator-Cho and he'll be in hell.

A Cho-like hell.

The stoic man sat back after a few minutes, finally pocketing the iPod. He formed a steeple with his fingers in front of his face with a devilish grin, "What's the matter, Wayne?" Cho snarls, emphatically using Rigsby's name to show just how knee-deep the other man is in the shit. "Surprised I like country music?"

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Thanks for reading!