(Untitled)

[stormweathered]

There were few joys in the world like a good old campfire, smores, and a book. Even though the bookshelf kept giving him Patterson, Patterson, and more Patterson (honestly, did it produce three times the work in the span of a second? Did Island-time somehow conspire to let him finish even more books in the blink of an eye?), he still had something

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[turnedoutfine]

Alexis was settled in close by her dad's side, half-eaten Island S'more in hand - they weren't half bad, as long as you didn't think too much about what an actual s'more was supposed to taste like. "Until the ruggedly handsome foe was totally spanked in the next round by the brilliant and clever Stephen J. Cannell?" she guessed jokingly with a smirk.

[stormweathered]

"Hey, I don't tell poker stories just for them to come bite me in the ass," he complained sharply, which was slightly diminished by the fact that he sounded petulant and it was the truth. He adjusted his hold on her, curling her in close as he dug out a blanket. "Besides, it's not like we need the money. I mean, sure, so Cannell took my pony-buying money. We managed."

[turnedoutfine]

"I'm pretty sure I've never been worried about our ability to manage, Dad," Alexis assured him. "I survived just fine without a pony."

[stormweathered]

"Yes, but I suffered," he replied with a due look of hurt and suffering upon his face. "All those days without bridled pony-rides around the streets of New York. Honestly. I'm going to die a man with many regrets for that."

[dreamily_luna]

"Not a fan of that particular artist?"

Luna stands at the edge of where the light is hitting, and while she's perhaps a little eerie, white blonde and large silvery eyes, curling her toes in the sand, it's hardly a match for the creature beside her.

The thestral snorts a bit, hardly fond of fire.

[stormweathered]

Castle might have replied, but he was slightly too busy staring up at the creature with wonder, mouth open in a perfect 'o' and his finger pointed in the direction of the creature. "It's a...you have a..." He let out a slightly dreamy and geeky sigh. "I don't know if I want to pet it or just tickle it."

[dreamily_luna]

Luna is plainly delighted. "You've seen a thestral before today? You're an American, are you a wizard? We know so little about the Americans, really."

The thestral looks less impressed.

[stormweathered]

"No, I..." Castle had to shut himself up before he went overboard and said something that he really wasn't supposed to, but he was still gaping and his finger was still pointing. "Is it going to want to eat me if I don't stop staring at it?" he asked warily, before they could actually talk about the subject.

[wormholed]

"What've you got?" asked John by way of hello, throwing himself down next to Castle at the fire.

"Looks like cookies. Is it cookies?"

[stormweathered]

"It is cookies mixed with the most wondrous of treats," Castle exalted as he lifted up his Island Smore creation to the universe and...well, the universe had created some pretty happening constellations and galaxies, so it probably didn't care, but he could pretend there was one twinkling little star out there that still gave a crap. "They are my pitiful attempt at smores. Want to pitifully share some?"

[wormholed]

"Frell yes," said John, looking about ready to snatch the cookie out of Castle's hand. "What is that, fruit?" Sandwiched between two wafers, and heeeeey. "That's way too healthy for a s'more!"

[stormweathered]

"Cookies trump health," Castle pointed out. "Trust me," he added, a completely serious look on his face. "If you saw the amount of butter that went into this cookie, you might have a heart attack right on the spo...wait, frell?" He made a hand gesture, pointing at him. "Explain. I am intrigued."

[needthepractice]

"Is that really what it says?"

Beckett glanced up at him from her position leaning along his side, a brief spark of amusement lingering in her gaze before she returned to staring into the flickering flames of the campfire. She'd brought a blanket down to the beach, half of which was pulled tight over her shoulders.

"Or am I getting the Castle's Notes version?"

[stormweathered]

"I will have you know that those men are dirty, dirty liars," Castle complained, not because they actually were, but because he felt if he complained about it enough times, then he would be able to turn it into Castle-truth. He eased back to beckon her closer. "That said, I did have a royal flush and I did earn a character in his next book because of it," he boasted smugly.

[needthepractice]

She leaned back into him without any hesitation, tugging the blanket over both of them. "Let's just hope that's not the case for every single man," she answered, giving him a pointed look over her shoulder. She knew Castle knew better than to lie to her, but the point was never not in need of repeating.

[stormweathered]

"Well, only men-not-me," he clarifies, because he wants it clear that he is a very loyal man, him. "Anyway, why are we even talking about Patterson and me and Cannell?" he wondered. "You're here now and you're going to be the test subject of the Castle Island Smore."

Which was slightly improving in name.

[dale_cooper_fbi]

"I'm not entirely certain what that's meant to be," said Dale, studying both the concoction and the fire from a safe distance, "but I have to admit, it certainly looks tasty."

The narration, which may or may not be a quote from the book, he had no comment on. Currently.

[stormweathered]

"It is both nutritious," he said with the delightful tone of a man who got to teach something that wasn't well known, "and...new," he faltered slightly, because he couldn't quite come up with a second thing to call it. "And I have about twenty too many, so please eat some. Or just feed them to the gulls. It may kill them, but then we'll have poultry!" he added brightly.

[dale_cooper_fbi]

"Well, that certainly sounds like a win-win situation on the surface," said Dale, "though I'd have to say I'd be concerned about eating the meat of birds we'd just inadvertantly poisoned."

[stormweathered]

"Yes, but I'm sure we have some kind of genius here who can cook it out. What would they call that? Food genius? Poison genius? Feather expert extraordinaire. ...that sounds like an incredible hobby," he admits, now struck with the notion.