(no subject)

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett is running.

To work out, mostly, but also to clear her head.

(There's a lot in there that needs clearing.)

She's outside, dressed just enough to stay warm and trying to make her way back to the bar before it gets too dark and she's forced to dodge demon bunnies or whatever else lurks out in the shadows. By the time she returns, she's made good time, and stops to do a few finishing stretches, hoisting her foot up onto the railing and trying to touch her nose to her leg.

She's got headphones in, so she may not hear you if you approach quietly. And we don't advise sneaking up on her, either.

[ tiny tag: rick castle ]

Comments

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

A ... not at all small dog runs by. Of course, with those floppy ears and long whippy tail it's hard to look fierce. Especially when your crazy owner-mum-person who drags you around the universe to weird places is hot on your heels.

At least Ace put on some trainers to at least look like this might be hard? Poor puppy ego.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

The cabs start getting harder to come by when the mercury freezes off the bottom of the thermometer. It took Castle the better part of ten minutes and three blocks to finally flag one down and he probably looked like a painted lunatic while he was trying, flagging his arms like a signalman trying to steer a plane onto a runway.

Truth be told, Castle likes the city in winter. The cold brings a weird kind of clarity.

He unloads a couple of blocks from his apartment, turning his cab over to a trio of tourists who recognize him from dust jackets and three a.m. commercials on local stations. He signs autographs and warms his hands by blowing on them in between.

As he walks, the scenery begins to change slightly. Castle rounds a corner to find Kate Beckett ahead of him, stretching herself on a Chinese torture rack. No, wait, it's just a railing. Outside the Bar. Well, hell, that's convenient.

He jogs toward her, his gait exaggerated, the ends of his scarf flapping as he bumps down the sidewalk. He stops beside her and runs in place, elbows hiked high and pumping. 'Like he jogs in an Armani every day.

"I didn't know you jogged this route," he says, shouting to be heard over the din in her earbuds.