By this time, Castle's cycled through another two songs by Aerosmith (honestly) and a depressingly frequent parade of songs from A Chorus Line, which will teach him to leave his iPod out while his mother is going through one of her musical theater moods. Eventually he gives up on Shuffle and just sets the thing on an innocuous enough John Lennon playlist.
He's got his laptop balanced in the crook of one arm and a carton of Kung Pao burning a hole through his palm when he hears the door. There follows a comical dance of 'what to put down first' before he dumps the laptop on the couch and keeps the Kung Pao in hand, crossing to meet the door.
"Beckett." His mother's the actor in the family and Castle does a crappy job at keeping the surprise out of his voice. "Hey."
She can hear the frantic movement on the other side of the door, a shuffling set of footsteps that turns the feigned attempt at a smile on her lips into a genuinely sincere one. There's no doubt in her mind now about who will be the one she'll see on the other end, and as the door swings open, her guess is confirmed.
"Hi," she says, her hands jammed in the pockets of her trenchcoat, and then fails to pick up where that greeting leaves off at first. Every potential question she's been wanting to ask (that was weird, right? or did you like it? but we probably shouldn't do that again, should we?) disappears completely, and her tongue feels heavy in her mouth.
Her gaze falls to the carton in his hand: a potential conversation piece.
"Huh?" He's still trying to put together the pieces of her being here. "Oh --" the carton in his hand "-- Friday night staple. Come in. You want some? It's still hot. Actually, I'm pretty sure I just got a grease burn. Hang on a sec." He leaves the door unattended and treads back toward the kitchen (carton still sizzling in his palm) for something cool to touch.
When he returns, he's traded the hot carton for a much cooler tub of sour cream.
(Yeah, he's batting a thousand in the "handling this well" department.)
But the smile he gives is genuine and he's clearly glad to see her.
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He's got his laptop balanced in the crook of one arm and a carton of Kung Pao burning a hole through his palm when he hears the door. There follows a comical dance of 'what to put down first' before he dumps the laptop on the couch and keeps the Kung Pao in hand, crossing to meet the door.
"Beckett." His mother's the actor in the family and Castle does a crappy job at keeping the surprise out of his voice. "Hey."
Reply
"Hi," she says, her hands jammed in the pockets of her trenchcoat, and then fails to pick up where that greeting leaves off at first. Every potential question she's been wanting to ask (that was weird, right? or did you like it? but we probably shouldn't do that again, should we?) disappears completely, and her tongue feels heavy in her mouth.
Her gaze falls to the carton in his hand: a potential conversation piece.
"Dialed out for dinner again?"
Reply
When he returns, he's traded the hot carton for a much cooler tub of sour cream.
(Yeah, he's batting a thousand in the "handling this well" department.)
But the smile he gives is genuine and he's clearly glad to see her.
"What's up? We get a case?"
Reply
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