For any number of reasons, that comment strikes Beckett as infinitely funny, and she sags back against him with a silent laugh that causes her face to scrunch up and her shoulders to shake helplessly. Her fingers find his forearm, steadying herself while she laughs, her grip eventually loosening once the song on the stereo changes.

"Oh, I love this song," she excitedly explains, her arms winding above her head, wrists twisting and undulating like a pair of snakes in the air. Sexual innuendo notwithstanding, she mouths the lyrics, the slower movements of her arms and hips only increasing in pace once the song reaches the chorus.