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[bestsellingego]

The NYPD doesn't have an official gym. Not anymore, anyway. Not since the basement in the bottom of the 12th had been found to contain "unusually high levels of asbestos" and not since everybody agreed that it was probably not a good idea for New York's Finest to run on treadmills located underneath five hundred pounds of the stuff. For the last

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[fanofthegenre]

Beckett arrives at the gym a little earlier than the time she and Castle are scheduled to meet. It's a habit, really, especially because she enjoys the opportunity to use the FBI's gym equipment - top-of-the-line stuff, too, not the asbestos-ridden basement the NYPD had been working out of all too long. (There'd definitely been some kind of internal investigation after it had eventually closed for good

[bestsellingego]

Seven pairs of eyes turn to mark the detective's arrival. Only Castle seems more annoyed than interested. "Nothing. Although I'm starting to get the turf war between you guys," he says as she approaches, squeezing between the wall of bodies even as Agent Desk moves to intercept. The badge looks skeptical -- How'd a guy like this end up with a woman like her? -- but he sits back down off Beckett's glance. This guy's okay.Castle hikes his gym bag and follows her through the chrome and glass foyer toward the elevators. As he goes, he turns a look over his shoulder. "I swear, those guys are musk oxen masquerading as government agents. Did you see the arms on some of them? I've seen hams hanging in deli windows that're smaller than that

[fanofthegenre]

It's only after Beckett makes eye contact with the agent at the desk that the risk of Castle losing an eye or a limb - or even both - disappears, though she can still hear the comments and the occasional chuckle following them through the glass doors and onto the elevator itself. She jabs the right button with a thumb, watching it illuminate, and then steps back, idly pulling one arm behind her back in a brief stretch. "Which is probably why you shouldn't have pissed them off. Five minutes later and I would've been coming down to the beaten pulp formerly known as Castle

[bestsellingego]

The great room is as organized as a Bureau filing cabinet: the aerobic equipment has its place, sectioned off from the weights, which are in turn cordoned off from the open floor mats. Castle passes a piece of equipment that would not be out of place in some of the clubs he'd been to during his last Miami press tour. Beckett's smooth sarcasm rolls off his back like sweat off...well, any of the objects in here.

He drops his bag beside the wall and bounces a little on his heels. The mats've got a big of spring to them. This would be fun, especially if it was extracurricular.

"Oh, I should be okay." He waves off her suggestion. "Sprinted to the head of the line at Starbucks this morning. I'm already pretty limber."