Without a response, she heads back to her room, leaving him there to finish the wine and probably stay up to do something along the lines of what he'll be calling lookout. It's not uncomfortable, having him here - that isn't what keeps her up even as she tries to settle down and relax, rolling over to either side to find a comfortable position, watching the numbers turn on her alarm clock and counting how many hours she'll get if she falls asleep now.

Finally, her insomnia gets the best of her and she rises to go to the bathroom, but on the way there, she detours slightly and tiptoes down the corridor to the living room. The lights are mostly out - except for a small lamp that casts the room in a dim glow, and Beckett's gaze lands on the twin empty glasses on the table, then searches for the back of Castle's head among the couch cushions.

Another creaking floorboard announces her presence.