"No," Beckett answers, dragging out the lone syllable even as she shakes her head, dark tresses gliding back and forth over her shoulders with the movement.

"That you know how to braid. My guess is you're fully equipped for a girls' night in."

She eyes him expectantly, waiting for him to confirm or deny her assumption. Something tells her it'll be the latter unless she leans on him a little more - in the literal sense, which she does, her arms sliding around his middle.