Although Vivian is not usually noticed by her coworkers, there is one person who notices her more than he notices anyone else at Jurassic World. Lowery Cruthers is the only employee that pays any attention to Vivian. He makes small talk, tries to impress her with tacky magic tricks, and interacts with her on a regular basis. Sometimes, Vivian enjoys their conversations. Other times, she wishes he would shut up and let her work. He has a tendency to prattle on and on about random subjects that are of no interest to her. He usually has an uncertain air about him, and Vivian wonders if there's something about her that makes him nervous. Whether or not that's the case, his awkwardness can be very frustrating.

Aside from Lowery, no one gives Vivian the time of day. Whenever she delivers forms or other important documents to the higher-ups, they pull them from her hands like she's a piece of furniture. They'll occasionally hand her their coffee too, expecting her to hold it while they get themselves organized. Vivian isn't too bothered by this, but it's sometimes difficult to get through the day without rolling her eyes.

On the other hand, being ignored is far better than being noticed. Especially when the one who's doing the noticing is Claire Dearing. The woman is like a hawk, circling around other people's workspaces until she is able to pinpoint and purge every weakness from the collective system. Whenever she's in the room, productivity rises to unnatural levels. The temperature also seems to drop by at least five degrees, but Vivian has no way of proving this for sure. In any case, Claire Dearing is a force to be reckoned with.

One day, Claire storms into work grumpier than usual. Taking this as a cue to keep a low profile, Vivian pretends to write something on a post-it note. She feels every muscle in her body tighten when Claire comes to a stop behind her. She turns around very slowly and smiles.

"Hi . . ."

"I need you to do me a favor."

Vivian gulps.

"What kind of favor?"

"I need you to deliver a message to . . . someone."

"Owen Grady?"

As soon as the name slips past her lips, Vivian realizes that she's made a terrible mistake. To mention Owen Grady in front of Claire is akin to lighting a match in a fireworks factory. She stiffens immediately and shudders like a broken animatronic.

"Who's been talking behind my back?"

Lowery lifts his head.

"Not me!"

Claire wheels around to face him in a swift movement.

"What have you been saying?"

Lowery leans back in his chair.

"You must have misheard me. I very clearly stated that it wasn't me. Unless you thought I was being sarcastic. Most people can't tell."

Claire's fingers are curling dangerously by her sides. Vivian is relieved that her attention has been diverted, but poor Lowery is about to get his ass handed to him.

"Don't spread rumors, Mr. Cruthers. I'm serious. If you choose to slander-"

"Relax! I'm not spreading any rumors," Lowery says with a suave calmness, "We all just assumed that you're going to tell him off for poking his nose here all the time."

Claire loosens up a little.

"I'm not. I don't appreciate him snooping around, but that's beside the point. I wanted to tell him that there was a mistake when we sent out the invitations for the mixer next weekend. He wasn't supposed to be invited."

The obvious response at this point would be to ask her why she couldn't tell him herself, but both Vivian and Lowery are wise enough to accept the fact that she has her reasons. Everyone knows that Claire hates Owen, but they've maintained a civil relationship ever since he visited her when she was in a coma. She probably doesn't want to give the impression that the cancellation of his invite was her idea, because that would seem petty. Vivian hates to get involved in these kinds of things, but since Claire asked her to do it . . .

"I'll tell him," she sighs, "I was planning on doing a bit of adventuring during my break anyway."

Claire nods.

"Thank you. Make sure you tell him that it wasn't my decision."

Ah. So the theory was correct.

As Claire walks away, Lowery rolls his chair closer to Vivian and hunches forward in a conspiratorial manner.

"This is perfect. Tell Grady that he's not invited, but Claire wants him to come anyway."

Vivian's jaw drops.

"No! Are you crazy?! I can't lie to him, and I really don't want to be a part of this drama!"

"Remember when Claire made you work during Christmas?"

"How could I forget?" Vivian groans.

"Just consider this your revenge."

Vivian shrinks back nervously.

"She'll know it was me."

"Not if you say that you sent someone else to do it for you."

"I'll get in trouble."

"Won't it be worth it?" Lowery presses, "Claire's been a Grade-A bitch for ages. It's time for someone to put her in her place."

Vivian frowns.

"This is so immature . . ."

Lowery raises his eyebrow.

"Implying Claire and Owen's melodramatic relationship isn't?"

"Fair point," Vivian sighs.

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

Vivian thinks it through. It's a terrible idea: there's no doubt about that. Even so, Claire has been short-tempered as of late, and she often directs her anger towards Vivian and her friends. Maybe it would be therapeutic to sabotage her, if only to end the Owen-Games once and for all. In the end, everyone would get what they deserved.

The more she thinks about it, the more Vivian forgets how ludicrous the plan is. By lunch, she's fully convinced that it's the perfect crime.

She tries to ignore the twinge of guilt she feels when she sees how excited Owen is to hear that Claire might want him to attend the party after all.