(Untitled)

[fanofthegenre]

Minimalist EP.

Minimalist homicide detective.

The combination today is: Coffee, couch, Castle's latest novel.

Interruptions okay.

Comments

[almosthonorable]

Ben meanders toward the couch (well, it looks like meandering, but he does have a picked path, the narration's hand on a stack of Bibles), juggling three Fuji apples.

It may be boredom, or maybe an exercise in speed and coordination.

Regardless, he catches the apples, neat and quick, and takes a seat on the unoccupied end of the couch.

"The hair looks nice, Little Miss Sunshine."

[fanofthegenre]

"Mr. Wade," she murmurs, glancing up from Derek Storm's final story just in time to watch him catch said apples.

A mildly impressed expression flickers over her features.

"It's a change, I'll admit."

Self-consciously, she reaches up to touch the longer ends.

[almosthonorable]

"Change ain't always for the worst," he says, offering one of the apples.

They're in good shape -- no bruises or soft spots, because he's a damn fine juggler.

"Don't know if my opinion's much on the matter, but I think it suits you."

[fanofthegenre]

"That's kind of you to say," she answers.

One hand abandons the book to reach out for the apple, slender fingers gripping the fruit before she tosses it up in the air, once.

"And you? Anything new?"

[justdidntseeit]

Kate's heading for the counter with a note for Demeter in one hand; she's scanning the bar proper for any sign of the goddess or Ramon when she spots --

Kate?

A second look confirms that it is, and Kate slips the note in the back pocket of her dark jeans and heads for the couch.

"Hey, stranger," she says quietly, not wanting to startle Beckett from her book.

[fanofthegenre]

Perfect timing, too; Beckett's just finished a chapter, and her attention isn't torn away in the slightest as she closes the book.

"Hey, yourself," she answers, nudging it aside.

"How've you been?"

[justdidntseeit]

"Spending most of my time upstairs," she says, taking a seat on the couch.

"You look really good."

She liked Beckett's hair before, but this softer look is equally gorgeous, just different.

[fanofthegenre]

That seems to be the general consensus on the hair, at least.

"How's Bill?"

[friend_of_lucy]

Tumnus is also reading and peers at the title of her book,

"What is that about?"

[fanofthegenre]

"It's a mystery," Beckett explains.

She nods towards his.

"And yours?"

[friend_of_lucy]

"A history of a nearby country. What sort of mystery?"

[fanofthegenre]

"Murder, intrigue, deception - you know, just your average bestseller," Beckett replies.

[bestsellingego]

Castle has a copy of Strunk's Elements of Style under his arm and a modular scarf stuffed under his chin. When he gestures with the former, the latter flaps and waves like a tongue of grammatical democracy.

He plunks down next to Beckett, causing the cushions to rock her like a swell rocks a small skiff.

"That can't be what I think it is." He nods to the book in her hands.

[fanofthegenre]

Additionally, the coffee in Beckett's mug teeters, but never once splashes over the rim.

She's grateful for it.

It means she might go easier on him.

"Castle."

[bestsellingego]

"It is indeed." He pinches the corner of the book jacket. Smiles. Like he's known all along. The Elements of Style goes slooping down the center cushion of the couch.

"What do you think so far? Pretty awesome opening, right?"

[fanofthegenre]

"It's interesting, to say the very least."

And really, she's refraining.

She's refraining from saying quite a lot.