“You could film him,” Ryan said.

Beckett shook her head. “We’ve been over this,” she said. “He doesn’t show... oh...”

“We could film him not showing up,” Castle said, nodding. “Ryan, you’re a genius.”

“You’re wishing you’d asked him to record that as a voicemail, aren’t you?” Esposito said.

Ryan nodded ruefully. “Kinda, yeah.”

Alexis Castle is a small redheaded thing; you wouldn’t believe that’s the woman who’s been running the New York Resistance cell for the last two years.

“You’re not at all what I imagined,” John tells her and she smiles wryly, her light blue eyes looking him over, still cold with some degree of suspicion. “You know, the intel that’s been coming in,” he adds and it doesn’t help much, but the corner of her mouth rises slightly. John sighs. “I thought you’d be taller,” he says finally.

"So, I've bookmarked key institutions – my top ten's in this folder, but there are some outliers, you know, the ones that score high on community service involvement, or social justice issues . . ." Alexis makes tiny clicks with her mouse and up pop a bewildering array of glossy websites.

"They had books when I did this," Castle says wistfully. "Glossy brochures. You wrote and said hey, I'm interested in your brain stuff, and they said here, have a shiny magazine."

"And that's why the polar bears are dying," Alexis says cheerfully.

"Where did you come from?"

"Brunch," she said, as if it was the most logical answer in the world.

"It's 4:30 on a Tuesday afternoon."

"And?"

"I wonder if we've read any of the same books."

The storm starts near dawn. Nothing spectacular. Just enough to fuck up her crime scene. Kate stands beneath an awning, cup of coffee in hand, watching CSU scramble to retrieve evidence. This case is going to be a bitch. Barely any trace to start and it's all headed for the sewers.

She sighs. Perfect.

"Well," Castle says, almost bouncing, "this certainly is an auspicious start."

They met at the Academy.

“And Jameson Rook? I get the ‘rook’ part, but why on earth would you give yourself a name like Jameson?”

Castle raised his eyebrows comically. “I don’t know whether it is a relief to me as a father that you are too young to drink and too law abiding to ignore that fact, or appalled that a daughter of mine is not aware of the manifold beauties of whiskey.” At Alexis’s expected eyeroll, he continued, “Whiskey is an excellent thing—a little too strong if you’re not prepared for it, smooth once you get past the initial bite, and it warms you up once you get used to it.”