(Untitled)

[fanofthegenre]

Minimalist EP.

Minimalist homicide detective.

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

Interruptions okay.

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[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.

[bestsellingego]

He scoots down on the sofa -- brooding, lazy Heathcliff -- and gives her a slanted eyebrow.

"Stir up a bit of nostalgia?"

[fanofthegenre]

"Maybe not the word I'd use."

She glances up from the book to him.

"You didn't tell me you were writing yourself into it - Jameson Rook, was it? Very clever."

[bestsellingego]

"Of course. Nikki Heat needs a ruggedly handsome intellectual foil."

He grins.

"Art really does imitate life."

[fanofthegenre]

She raises an eyebrow.

"Do Esposito and Ryan know they've made an appearance?"

[bestsellingego]

"My agent gave them a couple of complimentary copies. I heard from Ryan last night. He shared some of the more --" a pause "-- lurid tidbits with his girlfriend over a glass of honey milk. Apparently my words are quite the aphrodisiac."

[fanofthegenre]

"Oh, right. What was that passage I was reading again?"

Beckett flips open to somewhere within chapter six and starts to read aloud.

"She broke the surface and palmed the suds off her face and hair, and floated, weightless in the cooling water, and let herself wonder what it would be like with Jameson Rook. What would he be like? How would he feel and taste and move?"

There may or may not be a burning on her own cheeks as she shuts the book with a quick snap.

"Quite the artistic liberty you're taking there."

[bestsellingego]

A glad knocking in Castle's chest. He grins.

"You're pretty good," he says, ducking the question entirely, "would you consider doing the audiobook?"

[fanofthegenre]

The expression on Beckett's face is clear: she will not be lending her voice to anything having to do with Nikki Heat.

"Nice job of avoiding."

[bestsellingego]

"Oh, come on," he says, spreading his hands, "it's that kind of thing that sells books. People want romantic geometry. Now, whether that's a triangle or a good old fashioned --" he draws a square in the air with his fingers "-- doesn't matter. Eighty percent of my readership is female. I know what they like."

Bold statement coming from a guy who's been divorced twice over.

[fanofthegenre]

"Really?"

The book rests in her lap; for a moment, her gaze drifts down to the cover again.

"So tell me, Castle, what draws the women in?"

[bestsellingego]

"A mystery," he says. "You're very observant. Women are, in general. The way you watch one another and make quiet, accurate judgments. That's unique to your gender. With guys, well, you'd be lucky if we notice we all remembered to put on pants that morning."

He slings his arm over the back of the couch. "At the same time, you like something that you can't quite predict. It drives you crazy, but that's part of the attraction. Never knowing what comes next, always on your toes, always anticipating."

[fanofthegenre]

She already knows the answer to the question, why he has a legion of followers, both male and female alike. It's the same reason why she finds it difficult to stay mad at him, why she couldn't keep her guard up after he apologized.

Just like his books - from the first word, she's drawn in.

"I know it'll be appreciated if you show up to the precinct with all your clothes on," Beckett mutters.