There's a warm little thump in Castle's heart when she takes the glass. Small victories. He's gotta' appreciate them when it comes to Beckett. Getting the woman to accept simple courtesies or compliments was like trying to negotiate peace in the Middle East.

He's so wrapped up in his own cunning (and in the colour of the wine) that he almost misses what she says. 'No missing that tone, though, and it paints a crease between his brows.

"What's that supposed to mean?"