Beckett's almost at a loss for words. Somehow the fact that Castle actually knows the song doesn't surprise her, but she's not going to be so easily coaxed into this. A drink - or five, perhaps - is one thing, but a spontaneous belting of lyrics? Another thing entirely.

"Stop that," she mutters, but it doesn't have the verbal punch behind it that she'd like it to, and she shifts on the couch, drawing her ankle underneath the opposite thigh.