LOG : Open to fanofthegenre

[bestsellingego]

The precinct is quiet. Most of the officers have gone home for the night, leaving behind their humming computers and the residue at the bottoms of two dozen chipped coffee cups. Most of the men at the precinct have families to go home to. The ones that don't, well, they volunteer to work the night shift. They roll into the precinct in pairs,

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[fanofthegenre]

Beckett - well, ever since her previous conversation with Castle, she's made any and all attempts to avoid him. Whether that means staying late at the precinct or burying herself in work from home, she's done her damndest to keep out of sight. She's even started keeping a room in Milliways, for those days when she doesn't want to bother running into anyone.

The words they have spoken are cordial, barely considered conversation - at least on her end. She's going to keep it that way for now.

Looking down at her coffee, she realizes it's in dire need of a refill, and with a groan, gets up and heads to the machine.

[bestsellingego]

Ordinarily, when a woman avoids speaking to him, Castle can attribute it to one of two things: she's either a woman whose bed he's slipped out of in the wee small hours of the morning, or she's his mother. (It's important to Castle to make a strong distinction between those two phenomena.) With Beckett, it's different. Forget the fact that his publisher is snapping her capped jaws at his neck, wanting clear outlines of the next Nikki Heat chapter -- Beckett's a friendAt least, she was until he'd let his curiosity stampede all over his respect for personal boundaries

[fanofthegenre]

The precinct's quiet as she makes her way through the rows of empty desks and the computers with their glaring blue screens. It gives the whole room this sort of eerie glow, and her footsteps might quicken by a fraction of a second as she heads into the break room

[bestsellingego]

There are a lot of ways to test the level of a woman's anger. Silence is the coup de grâce. At least she's registering his existence. He thinks he can get around that junkyard dog jaw if he works at it a little.

"You're avoiding me," he says, proving once again that mystery writers are always skilled at stating the obvious.