The cab glides up to the curb and Castle gets out to do business with the driver. ("I've seen a lot of weird things in my time, but I never saw a guy fork over fifty bucks just so he could watch a chick sleep in the back of a cab.") The wind's picked up. Castle buries his cheek into the lining of his coat and crosses to Beckett, who looks surprisingly awake for someone who just spent the last quarter hour snuggled against his shoulder.

Guess it's a "cop thing" -- reflexes always at the ready.

That old, charming smile is back. "They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, but I prefer to think that a better judge of human character is the way a person dresses their hot dog." He nods toward the cart. "Get whatever you want."