If there was one thing Beckett was indecisive about, one part of her life that she never knew exactly how to figure out for herself, one time when she felt completely and totally helpless and way in over her head -
- it was now, standing in front of her closet, trying to figure out what she was going to wear tonight. Sure, she'd dressed up before - book signings, book premieres, the occasional charity benefit - but the decisions had usually been made well in advance and with considerable guidance from Lanie. Now there was only a day to figure things out, and Lanie wasn't going to be around to tell her what to do. The morgue was overflowing with recently dead, and she wasn't available to free herself for a night of consulting.
("But - " Beckett had started.
"Girl, you'll be fine. Call me later, I want all the juicy details."
"Lanie - "
Click.Hours of paperwork, minutes of staring hopelessly into the depths of her wardrobe, careful application of what had literally been all of the make-up in her possession, and a series of
( ... )
Castle gets a peek at the plunge but he's conscious enough of his manners (and of the fact that leopards can't change their spots; she might have a gun on underneath that gown) not to let his attention linger too long. Besides, she's got her Confidence Heels on and as she straightens, all the wit and one-liners fly out of his brain. For a moment, he's about as articulate as a Ferrigno dialogue
( ... )
It's safe to assume that there are very few places Beckett could be hiding a gun on her person, especially given the way the dress falls on her. That being said, she's stashed her off-duty piece in her tiny clutch, which is just about the only thing it can hold on its own - besides a tube of lipstick. She's almost ready, needing to grab a few more things, but she does pause to offer Castle a smile of sincerity.
"Thank you," she murmurs, because she knows he means every word.
"Almost ready," Beckett adds. It's her coat she goes for first, shrugging it on over her shoulders with every intent on putting her arms through the sleeves when they actually get out of the apartment, grabbing the tiny gun-carrying clutch that rests on the hallway side table. Her mind is checking off its mental list, making sure she's remembered everything for every possible scenario, and then she finally slips out the door, checking the handle after locking it with her key.
"Okay. Now I'm ready." She slides her arms into her coatsleeves and sets off
( ... )
"This old thing? Well, you know, I just kind of throw it together." Castle pats his tie and accompanies her onto the elevator that will take them the three short flights down to the lobby. He considers suggesting the stairs, knowing Beckett's proficiency at walking in a pair of heels, but they're in the lift before he can do anything about it.
Out on the street, Castle hails a cab and slides into the back seat beside her. The heat's chugging and the driver speaks broken English, but he manages to articulate their destination and soon the city is rolling by them in a haze of light and colour.
"I met with Gina today," he says, fronting a grimace that might actually have some legitimacy. "She's really pushing for a sequel to Heat Wave. I told her about the ants, but she said I couldn't possibly do a whole book about entomology. I told her to come by the precinct sometime. You've got a whole crew of officers who could show her how."
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- it was now, standing in front of her closet, trying to figure out what she was going to wear tonight. Sure, she'd dressed up before - book signings, book premieres, the occasional charity benefit - but the decisions had usually been made well in advance and with considerable guidance from Lanie. Now there was only a day to figure things out, and Lanie wasn't going to be around to tell her what to do. The morgue was overflowing with recently dead, and she wasn't available to free herself for a night of consulting.
("But - " Beckett had started.
"Girl, you'll be fine. Call me later, I want all the juicy details."
"Lanie - "
Click.Hours of paperwork, minutes of staring hopelessly into the depths of her wardrobe, careful application of what had literally been all of the make-up in her possession, and a series of ( ... )
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"Thank you," she murmurs, because she knows he means every word.
"Almost ready," Beckett adds. It's her coat she goes for first, shrugging it on over her shoulders with every intent on putting her arms through the sleeves when they actually get out of the apartment, grabbing the tiny gun-carrying clutch that rests on the hallway side table. Her mind is checking off its mental list, making sure she's remembered everything for every possible scenario, and then she finally slips out the door, checking the handle after locking it with her key.
"Okay. Now I'm ready." She slides her arms into her coatsleeves and sets off ( ... )
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Out on the street, Castle hails a cab and slides into the back seat beside her. The heat's chugging and the driver speaks broken English, but he manages to articulate their destination and soon the city is rolling by them in a haze of light and colour.
"I met with Gina today," he says, fronting a grimace that might actually have some legitimacy. "She's really pushing for a sequel to Heat Wave. I told her about the ants, but she said I couldn't possibly do a whole book about entomology. I told her to come by the precinct sometime. You've got a whole crew of officers who could show her how."
He feeds her a smile.
"What did you do today?"
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