In her absence, Castle's refreshed their beers and shucked his blazer on the back of one of her seldom-used dining room chairs. He interfaces with her stereo, shirt rolled up to the elbows, brow knit in concentration. Beckett may be frugal when it came to little luxuries, but her stereo system is more complex than Cape Canaveral.

"Hey --" as she returns, looking well-scrubbed and refreshed "-- you look great. Give me a second to divert the launch codes and..." The CD player whurrs into compliance. Castle steps back, triumphant. 'Holds out a hand to her.

"Come dance with me."