After everything Beckett's been through in the last week (government conspiracies, reports of alien life, Castle whistling an all-too familiar theme to a certain television show), it's no wonder that she has extraterrestrial - whatever on the brain.
(Not to mention that she's pretty sure she actually did see the fictional agents walking around
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Comments 18
Needless to say, when he comes into the bar from his world--only a few days until Christmas there, so he really has no excuse for not noticing the time of year--gift lists are far from his mind when he sees Beckett bent over a pen and paper.
"Hey, Beckett. How're you?" he asks, tugging off his gloves and unzipping his coat. He has a bit of Eau de Motor Oil hovering around him, as he's spent the last couple hours coaxing his truck back to life.
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The scent of motor oil reaches her nose, and she smiles, looking at his pink cheeks and automatically signaling to a waitrat to bring her a small pot of coffee to refresh her cup - and a second cup for Jack.
"Good," she says, and genuinely means it. This week hasn't been nearly as stressful as some of the ones preceding it.
"You look like you've been spending some time out in the cold."
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He dumps his coat and gloves on a chair, then takes a seat. "Am I interrupting some work?"
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She discreetly tucks the list into the back pocket of her jeans.
"Nothing important."
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