Author's Note: And now, as promised, a proper chapter to finish off the set-up.
Fans of Ten Other Ways, you may notice a familiar (though, slightly altered) scene or two. And, speaking of altering, I had to play around with a few things here and there. Fans of the movie will see some lines have been split and changed, fans of the show might notice people acting a little differently than normal (Looking at you, Bates, Anna, Carson!).
In any case, I hope you enjoy this second part! If nothing else, it was fun putting these two chapters together.
Disclaimer: I still don't own either Downton Abbey or Jurassic Park.
_._
Charles Carson only had one question for the lot:
Why Montana of all places?
Make that two questions:
Why here and why not home?
It was something the man asked himself on a routine basis.
Montana had not been his first choice for a dig site. Montana had quite possibly been his thirtieth choice, and that was only if the scientist were being kind. But it mattered little where Montana ranked in his mind. That would be because, unlike home, Montana was the current hot-spot for unearthing life's secrets.
Which, at the moment, was exactly what they were doing.
Several hands methodically brushed off the residual sand covering the remains of the skeleton with their best tools, the team of diggers determined to savour every part of this they could. Working to unveil the earth's enthralling presentation of life over time, having this chance to truly engage with history in the paleontological fashion, this was the reason why Montana was tolerable.
Or, at least, this was partially why Montana tolerable.
The other reason stood nearby, basking in the glow of discovery and the sun's encouraging beam.
"Dr. Hughes, Dr. Carson," John Bates' voice broke his concentration, pulling him away from the dig and his rather distracting thoughts. "We're ready to try again."
Right. Yay. "I really do hate computers," The man admitted with a groan at the thought of dealing with more monstrous technology, rising to his feet uneasily. "Trying again", in this instance, was John's way of saying "mucking around with infernal contraptions" Charles never cared for.
"Dr. Carson," A bandana to help him against the heat was soon wrapped considerately around his neck, a teasing Scottish lilt cheerfully ringing out, "I've no doubt the feeling is mutual."
He silently nodded, thankful for the help today and for the company throughout the years. That is, he was thankful until her response fully registered. Then the man settled for fondly glaring at his colleague, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her tease.
For the record, he was not the reason they were surrounded by technology.
Not that he really cared about all that. It was true that, if Elsie hadn't been here throughout all of this, there would be no dealings with technology. However, if there'd been no technology, he would never have gotten as far as he was today.
It was one of the many reasons he was grateful for one Elsie Hughes.
Though, with poking teases like that, his gratuity had ducked out of sight for the time being.
With a distasteful grimace, Charles watched as Phyllis Baxter and Joseph Moseley worked with the machinery that would allow them to thoroughly investigate the ground below. Anna Bates –– née Smith when this adventure all began –– took charge of handling the computer while John Bates stayed nearby to make sure that the machine's readings were fully operational.
They all made a good team, having really come together over the years. It'd only been Dr. Hughes, and himself in the beginning, steadily working on any and all projects they could. Then Anna came along with John soon following, the pair providing support Charles never realized they would need. Joseph somehow bumbled his way into the picture, much to the scientist's frustration. But he proved himself invaluable over the years, much to everyone's surprise. And when Phyllis had wandered in by happenstance, it only completed the team.
"Did it work?" Moseley asked in the distance, remaining firmly by his post even in the blazing sun. Charles watched as Dr. Hughes unintentionally ignored the question, fully taken in by the machine. Right, he knew that look very well: it meant she was only invested in finding out the truth. He was proven correct as she started to walk behind Anna to look over her shoulder, oblivious to the world.
"How long does this usually take?" The Scot inquired, clearly fascinated by the new technology. He himself found himself more interested in watching her reaction to this advancement, finding it easier to stomach than looking at the contraption itself. She, at the very least, enjoyed this sort of stuff –– trying out new contraptions, humouring the team's curiosities.
Still, he'd take this over that old toaster of hers any day.
"Should bring an immediate return, Dr. Hughes." Anna replied, confident, "You shoot the radar into the ground and the bone bounces the image back."
The blonde woman continued to mutter to herself as she pressed a few buttons here and there, solely focused on solidifying the image that lay beneath them. He himself still didn't understand how shooting a radar and witnessing any form of bouncing wouldn't damage something in the process. But this is why he trusted his colleagues to handle this, and not himself.
"This new program's incredible." John remarked as the image came on the screen. Charles could suppose this assessment to be the case, so long as he didn't have to actively interact with said program. Give him the methods of the old days in a heartbeat, even if they were all deemed incredibly backwards by their community.
"A few more years' development, and we won't even have to dig anymore." Anna predicted, enamoured with it all. He shuddered at the proclamation, unable and unwilling to help himself in spite of her enthusiasm.
"Where's the purpose in that?" Charles bluntly asked, finding the very idea as distasteful as staying out here in the Badlands, "Or the style that comes with a dig for that matter?"
Dr. Hughes fondly scoffed at the words, looking away from the technology to send a look at her colleague, "Only you would find style when it comes to digging."
But before he could defend himself and remark that style was at the heart of digging, the program was beginning to do something he really didn't understand –– a murky image now appearing on the screen.
"It's a little distorted," Anna piped up, garnering their attention again. "But I don't think it's the computer."
The scientist nodded to herself, stepping up to take a closer look. "Post-mortem contraction of the posterior neck ligaments. Velicoraptor?" She asked, turning to Charles. He nodded in agreement, inadvertently taken with the image once he gave it a proper chance.
"It's in surprisingly good shape, too. I'd estimate it's five or six feet high and possibly nine fight long." He reached out to point out that the dinosaur was––
"Dr. Carson, what did you do?" Anna asked in dismay, noting the screen severely glitched for a second.
Ah, yes, his curse was coming back to haunt him and make a mockery of him in front of all their supposedly wonderful guests. Said guests were remarkably well-behaved so far, staying a respectable distance away from the team until they'd been told otherwise. But he knew there'd be snickering at this little techno-debacle, a phrase Dr. Hughes cheekily coined these moments had first begun.
"He touched it," There was definitely a tease in his friend's voice, though that was to be expected after all this time, "I'm afraid Dr. Carson is not very machine-compatible."
"Dr. Hughes, you know as well as I that they've got it in for me," Charles retorted, feeling a bit flustered by her words and desperate to change the subject. "Anyway, look at the half-moon shaped bones in the wrists. It's no wonder they learned how to fly. I dare say their bones were crafted to do so, to take to the sky."
"My, my," Her voice was closer than he expected, tickling his nerves. "Dare I say that was a mite poetic, Dr. Carson?"
The rest of their audience, composed mainly of school-children, their teacher and the necessary chaperones, were more amused than anything else as chuckles finally broke out among them. Though they did quiet down upon hearing, "In all seriousness, Dr. Carson may have a point when he suggests that dinosaurs have more in common with present-day birds than with reptiles."
"Indeed." Charles concurred, pleased that she was on his side in front of such a crowd. It was a subject they debated on occasion –– he was always on the side that insisted dinosaurs actually resembled birds instead of the other far fetched theories she occasionally considered.
"Right," Joseph chimed in from the back. "I bet you can even tell us why, Dr. Hughes!"
She smiled, shaking away the attention by gesturing to her colleague instead, "Well, I have to say that Dr. Carson is far better at explaining it."
That wasn't true in the slightest. He could listen to any explanation of hers any time, her elaborations always thoughtful and captivating. But Charles recognized that this diversion was code for saying she had no desire to remain in the spotlight for whatever reason. And, so, he steeled himself in order to give a proper lecture to their visitors, having no qualms about suddenly taking center stage.
"Right. Well, look at the pubic bone, turned backward, just like a bird. Look at the vertebrae, full of air sacs and hollows, like a bird." The man turned back to the screen, engrossed in explanation and oblivious to his attentive crowd. "And even the word 'Raptor' means 'bird of prey'."
The scientist was unaware of his colleague's faint smile as he continued to explain the similarities, a smile that would soon pitch into a frown at a rather rude interruption…
_._
"That doesn't look very scary." A dark-haired boy from the back of the crowd snidely interjected, "More like a six-foot turkey. Are you sure that's a real dinosaur?"
John Bates hadn't cared for this child when he found the boy insulting Anna and Phyllis earlier, right after the school group had first arrived and that supposedly good-natured "prank" had been played. The fact that the boy was British added nothing in his favour: his belligerent attitude ruined any chance for respect, let alone cordiality.
And now? Now that he was daring to insult a predator, a velociraptor, no less? There was now an idea that came to John, one that was determined to show the brat just what this creature could do. This tactic of teaching was as immature as the boy who mocked the dinosaur, but it was also far too tempting an idea to pass up.
"A 'turkey'?" John was surprised to hear Dr. Hughes's voice unnaturally calm, as though their work hadn't been insulted by a spoiled brat. Normally, she never seemed bothered by the careless remarks of children and strangers. But judging from the fact that she was responding to the insult with a frosted edge to her question, it seemed that the child's words were going a little too far today. "Remind me: what's your name?"
"Larry. Larry Grey." The boy seemed to boast about his name as though everyone should have recognized it and been in awe. Frankly, none of the team knew it and none cared to.
"Larry. Right." John smoothly stepped in, interjecting, "Dr. Hughes, if I may?"
Sharp blue eyes met stubborn grey, the request clear within seconds:
You already know how he acts, you saw it yourself earlier. Please, let me do this.
"Of course, John."
He withheld a grim smile at her consent, turning all of his attention to the boy. Yes, it would have been great to see the Scottish Nodosaur –– the team's unofficial nickname for the woman, the Nodosaur was a rare dinosaur resembling a dragon –– out today. However, the Scottish Nodosaur would have traumatized the boy for life, whereas he was only planning to scar him for the next fifty years or so.
"Well, Larry," John continued, knowing that he needed to take his time with this if he wanted to get the message across. No doubt the boy saw his cane and presumed him too "crippled" to pose any sort of threat. But, that mattered little. "Just try to imagine yourself in the Cretaceous period. You get your first sight at this six-foot 'turkey' as you enter a clearing. He moves like a bird, lightly bobbing his head. And you keep still because you think that his visual acuity is based on movement, like the Tyrannosaurus Rex. And, so, he'll lose you if you don't move."
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Anna straighten up and continue to watch, a knowing glint in her eyes. She was always good at reading him, probably knowing exactly where this was going. And if she disapproved, he might've stopped right then and there, veering off toward a kinder lecture for the boy. Actually, even if she disapproved, he would probably keep on going this time. Larry's appalling words from before, in combination with that disgusting prank toward his classmate, meant that this lecture was personal.
But, luckily, his wife looked entirely unopposed to what would be coming. In fact, a hint of satisfaction was lining the corners of her face, discreet but visible to someone who knew her well. Either way, he had a dark-haired boy to teach and not a lot of time to get the message across. So, John went back to lecturing the child, lowering his voce to a sotto that would get this deadly message across.
"Unfortunately, that's not the case with the Velociraptor." The scientist took a silent breath, letting an apathetic silence constrict the air, his eyes squarely meeting this little boy's. Only when Larry Grey's demeanour flickered with trepidation, the arrogant mask cracking, did John continue to remark with great obduration, "You stare at him and he stares right back, quite aware of your existence. And that is when the attack comes. Not from the front, but from the side."
The dark-haired boy blanched, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the conversation. John had no sympathy, having long since recognized the type of child that stood before him. Larry Grey was not someone who would respectfully listen to the world. Therefore, the man had no qualms over continuing to deliver these factual slices of fear: "The attack comes from the other two Raptors, the ones you would not and could not anticipate."
But he wasn't done.
Not in the slightest.
"Why, you may ask? Why were there two other Raptors? Why could you not anticipate their attack?" It was a mirthless chuckle he gave, one that sent goosebumps through the crowd, "Because the Velociraptor is a pack hunter. He uses coordinated attack patterns and he is out in force today." Letting his words cut through the air, a wounded hush descending upon the boy, "Dr. Carson, you have a claw from one. May I have your permission to show it to Larry here?"
Even though Dr. Carson hadn't been a witness to Larry's earlier behaviour, he trusted John's judgment. He knew that his colleague wouldn't be acting this way without very good reason. And though he would no doubt question Bates later, a glance at Dr. Hughes told him everything the man needed to know right now. "Of course. It'd be a pleasure."
John let a smirk slide into his smile, the boy being the only one to see this as he continued to stare him down. Soon, the claw was passed to him, the fossil indifferently resting in his palm.
Everyone on the team knew of Dr. Carson's prized possession: it had been one of the first fossils the man had ever discovered, serving as a personal reminder to respect any creature they came across, to never underestimate what could be found in their searches.
And today, it would be serving its purpose to the furthest degree possible.
"When he finally attacks," John began again, fully aware he had the full approval of any child Larry bullied and quite possibly the boy's teacher and chaperones –– if the lack of protest was anything to go by. "He slashes at you with this: a six-inch retractable claw, like a razor on the middle toe."
Perhaps he was indeed going overboard with this lecture. But he very much doubted it. And at the sight of the boy's arrogant eyes widening to an unnatural degree, his face paling further than what seemed possible, John had no true regrets.
After all, if he was to be foolish enough to act the way he did, well, that was Larry's mistake. And better that Larry make this mistake with someone like John Bates than with someone like Elsie Hughes. Or, for that matter, Charles Carson.
Needless to say, had the boy treated Dr. Hughes much like he treated everyone else, that razor might've seen a live demonstration today.
But, now, to go in for the kill:
"He doesn't bother to bite your jugular like a lion, no, that's not satisfying for this hunter." The man proceeded to frostily inform the child, "He slashes at you here or here," Arching the claw through the air to mark each spot, the scientist stiffly drove the subject home with, "In fact, you are alive when they start to eat you. So, perhaps you ought to try and show a little respect to the creature."
"Yes, sir." Larry swift mumbled, petrified beyond belief. John gave a wan smile at this, knowing that the boy was going to take this all a bit more seriously. And, thus, the rest of the lecture for the children carried on, as though no deviation has occurred.
That is, of course, except for the fact that Larry continued to warily eye the raptor claw with an uneasiness that never quite went away.
_._
"While I don't think we had to scar him for life, I appreciate you saying something." Anna Bates wasn't of the belief that her battles had to be fought for her. But, seeing as how her own words hadn't landed with the boy when she'd first crossed paths with him, she appreciated that John was able to get a message across.
Even if he might have been laying it on a bit thick.
They were tucked away in a tent, looking over the team's computer system in private. Everyone was on a short respite, taking some time to switch gears now that the school-visit was over.
Which meant she could finally talk about what had happened earlier.
"Did I really go too far?" Regret tinged his every word, causing Anna to firmly shake her head. When this didn't seem to reach him, the man now over-thinking the whole incident, she felt there was only way to get her husband's attention.
Reaching out and gently cupping his cheek, waiting for permission before she continued, her lips soon caressed his as appreciation was properly expressed. Mindful of the equipment nearby, they kept it fairly innocent and sweet –– the act meant to be reassuring more than anything else.
"I'm sorry, Anna," He said when they parted for air, mirth beginning to dance in his eyes, "But could you repeat that?"
She was more than happy to do just that.
_._
It is only later, when it's just Dr. Carson and Dr. Hughes taking a little time for themselves via a stroll through the rugged terrain, that any form of inquiry will emerge.
"Am I to take it that there was a reason behind John's lecture?" This is more rhetorical than anything else, the scientist fully aware that his colleague could have stopped that particular lecture at any time.
"There was." She curtly responds, not upset with her colleague but, rather, the situation. That the boy had been allowed to act the way he had, that it had taken John's lecture to bring some semblance of respect to Grey's behaviour. She normally liked children; she hadn't cared for Larry Grey, not one bit.
And when it is clear the woman will not elaborate any further, he takes it upon himself to find out the truth.
"Dr. Hughes, what is your opinion of Larry Grey?" The words are slipping out of his mouth before the man can think them through, the air stilling for him even as his colleague takes the question in stride.
"My opinion of Larry Grey is hardly favourable, Dr. Carson: I found him pranking one of his fellow classmates earlier this morning," Though, judging from the clipped tone, "prank" is undoubtedly an understatement for the child in question. "And I caught him acting in an unbecoming manner toward Anna and Phyllis several minutes afterwards."
Then that little lecture has indeed saved the boy from Nodosaur trauma. Still, Charles couldn't help but wonder if it would have been better to let his dear colleague and friend have her way and petrify the boy with a well-deserved lecture. "So, your opinion of children as a whole is one that…?"
They have never discussed the matter in all their years of working together. It is simply not done. There are far too many boundaries typically keeping them away from any sort of interaction like this. Theirs is not supposed to be more than platonic companionship, a solid working relationship that allows for paleontological adventures by one another's side, nothing more. To think otherwise is to take their habits and replace them with contemplations that are far from the working parameters of their life together. It would be atypical, an abnormal concept that would derail the definition of their relationship.
Yes, well, it seems that nothing is meant to be normal today. For instance, he rarely lets himself reach this level of melodrama within his thoughts, let alone hand his contemplations over to such sentimentality.
Still, sentimentality or not, he finds himself invested in hearing whatever it is she has to say next.
"I freely admit, Dr. Carson, that a breed of the species known as children could be intriguing." His colleague playfully retorts, happy to discuss what she feels is a fairly neutral subject –– even if talking about children is unusual for them. "And, your opinion of the species?"
Charles comes to a stop, gradually letting the question fully strike him before responding. It isn't one he's really given a lot of thought to–– well, no, that isn't truly accurate, is it? It's more of the fact that he'd stopped giving thought to that when it had become clear which path his life was taking.
"Although I could see some potential benefits, I typically find that particular species to be cacophonous, uncivilized, and expensive."
"It's the last part that particularly bothers you, isn't it?" She knowingly quips, a sparkle of mirth gleaming in her eyes.
But, this is one of the rare moments in which Elsie Hughes is wrong about him. And ordinarily, he would brush her response off into the sand, letting it fade into a dusty silence. How could the truth be of any help in this situation? Why possibly ruin a witty conversation and derail a beautiful friendship with his foolishly sentimental honesty?
Well, because this feels different.
And because this feels different, he doesn't resist the urge to correct her.
"Not really. Rather, it's the fact that having children would imply I'm not in the vicinity of—"
The jarring rush of a helicopter cuts off his words, taking their attention as the pair rush back to current priority: covering up their dig. Any disruption from the helicopter could set them back for weeks. And seeing as how it has taken them ages to discover this velociraptor skeleton, there is no way he can possibly allow said discovery to be ruined because of some rich idiot who doesn't understand the unspoken rules of paleontology.
"Shut it down!" Dr. Hughes repeatedly demands as she, much to Charles' horror, runs up to the helicopter. He doesn't care for those contraptions, finding them to be as newfangled as computers and far more dangerous.
But she seems safe now. Safe and, frankly, more distracted than anything else as the pilot points in the direction of their little home. Soon enough, he finds himself watching as she stalks back over to the main trailer –– his friend quite determined to converse with whoever has interrupted their day. Irritatingly so, he can't join her just yet; he has to make sure every inch of the dig site is covered. But the second that's completed he will be following her and investigating the transpiration that has interrupted their work today.
Because, unfortunately, there is indeed someone inside their little home. That much is obvious.
Not only that, he also feels certain that there is something to investigate.
_._
It was with a sense of vexation that had Dr. Elsie Hughes striding over to the inside of the trailer, rather irritated by the disorientating behaviour that was the world today. Her ire only increased when she discovered a woman dressed sumptuously in white, a woman who was unashamedly rummaging through their fridge and radiating imminent prestige.
"What on earth do ye think ye're doing in here?" Her accent was slipping into a distinctly brogue-esque territory, sharply poking through her words as anger tossed aside her normal manners. Her nerves had already been tried today on three separate occasions. Suffice it to say, she was not in the mood for people breaking into her domain as though they owned the place. "And may I add that we were savin' tha' bottle o' wine!"
This only brought out a pleased grin from the woman as she eagerly declared in an American accent that, "I guarantee you were saving it for today."
Hardly! Elsie was not interested in such inconsiderate behavior nor for such carefree statements. Not when it had nearly ruined what was and still is a very promising dig. And if this stranger didn't explain herself in the next minute, said stranger would be understanding why no one dared to parade about dig sites so rudely.
"And just who do you think you are?" The scientist regained some of her manners even as she continued to snap, the sand from the outside world sliding off her as she tersely walked over to where the American stood. And, yes, she did note that the stranger still clutched their bottle of wine as though she owned the bloody thing.
"Cora Crawley. And, I'm delighted to finally meet you in person, Dr. Hughes."
Oh.
Elsie froze, not knowing how to react to her patron standing in the middle of their trailer. Especially when she considered the ire she'd haphazardly flung at said patron only seconds ago. Luckily, it looked like Mrs. Crawley didn't give a hoot about the anger. Instead, she was looking about and declaring in a pleased tone, "I can see that my £50,000 a year has been well spent."
Yes, well, if Elsie has indeed managed to avoid botching this exchange, her dear friend's irate entrance just might do the reverse. For it was with an unusually loud bang that came with the door rapidly opening, Dr. Carson joined them with more than mere traces of agitation in his voice as he caustically growled, "And just who was it that so rudely––"
"This is our paleobotanist, Dr. Carson." Elsie sharply interrupted him, quickly placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down as she spoke. "Dr. Carson, this is Mrs. Crawley."
"Mrs. Crawley?" Dr. Carson was appropriately chastised by his own lack of manners the moment "Mrs." had been uttered, having quickly realized that this was the woman who helped to pay for nearly everything before them. He could only hope the American would forgive them both for their outbursts, suddenly feeling profusely ashamed of his behaviour.
After all, had it not been for this eccentric woman, he might have had to have lived most of his life working in a factory or some such equivalent. And now that he'd lived this life, this fantastic life working alongside this particularly brilliant woman, he could not ever go back to the other paths that had once been available.
"I am terribly sorry about the dramatic entrance, Dr. Carson, but we're in a hurry." Mrs. Crawley smoothly pivoted around in his direction, flashing him an inviting smile as though it were her home. "Will you have a drink? I'll just get a glass or two."
So much for being in a hurry.
Dr. Hughes noticed bemusedly that her colleague proceeded to try to be of use, probably feeling highly undignified about not being the one in charge of the drinks. But Cora was most insistent on managing her way throughout their kitchen, continuing to happily chat as she did so, all warm smiles and pleasant words.
"You know, I must say that I like you. Both of you." Their patron easily fetched the glasses in question as she confided that, "I can tell instantly about people. It's a gift that's served me well."
The pair of scientists slowly nodded, still stunned by her unexpected arrival and wondering just what it was that brought the woman here. Gifts or not, they themselves had no explanation for her sudden appearance.
Thankfully, Cora only took this confusion as her cue to explain the matter and finally put this mystery to rest.
"My husband and I own an island off the coast of Costa Rica. We've leased it from the government and, during the last five years, I'm pleased to say we've been setting up a biological preserve. Really spectacular –– and, as my husband likes to remind me, we spared no expense. Makes the one we've got down in Kenya look like a petting zoo." Cora chuckled, tickled by something within her own remark. "And there's no doubt our attractions will drive kids out of their minds."
"What, precisely, are those?"
Elsie glanced over at her colleague at his question, needing to air out some sort of a jest in order to regain her equilibrium. It was only that, and not the fact that said colleague was endearing when incredibly flustered, that had her quipping in response.
"Small versions of adults, Dr. Carson." She informed with a faint smile, ignoring his bristling as Cora continued.
"And not just kids, everyone." The American began pouring the drinks, comfortable with the multi-tasking before her. "We're going to open next year –– that is, if the lawyers don't kill us first. We don't particularly care for lawyers, do you?"
Thrown off by this blunt question, the two friends could only respond with neutral equivalents of, "We don't really know any."
Mrs. Crawley nodded, taking their responses in and calmly swirling her wine as she thought it all over. And though she'd done her best to make this all seem impromptu, her eyes revealed that this was a conversation she'd long since rehearsed.
"Well, I'm afraid my husband and I do. And there's a particular pebble in my shoe, one who represents my investors. He says that they insist on outside opinions."
This nonchalantly offered bit of information seemed to be exactly what motivated Cora to come here. Which could only imply that those outside opinions she wanted were theirs.
But, any good scientist knew better than to assume, even when the conclusion seemed obvious.
"What kind of opinions?" Elsie found herself asking, though her gut already told her the answer. Nevertheless, it looked like she'd asked just the right question, judging from the serene beam coming from the American in question.
"Well, your kind of opinion, Dr. Hughes, not to put too fine a point on it. I mean, let's face it: in your respective fields, you're the top minds. And if my husband and I could just persuade you to sign off on the park, give it a ringing endorsement, maybe even give us a winning testimonial, we could get back on schedule."
It sounded so simple when she stated it like that, so very simple and somehow so very persuasive. Had there been a contract in front of their faces, signatures would've been placed almost immediately. Yet the pair couldn't help but wonder why they were the experts being sought out. Amusement parks never needed the endorsements of people who had spent their lives traipsing around fossils and roaming about the deserts of time.
"Why would they care what we think?" Dr. Carson confusedly inquired as Elsie asked, "What kind of park is this, exactly?"
"It's right up your alley." Cora confessed with a disarming grin as she handed them both a glass, her gaze relaxed. The American knew there was enough intrigue in this proposal. Hence, they would hear her out instead of flat-out refusing. It also helped that she could ensure their little operation was smoothly sailing, at least when it came to finances. "Why don't you come down for the weekend? Get an idea of it all."
"And just what is a weekend?" Dr. Carson muttered under his breath, only slightly jesting. The problem was, their work was never-ending –– especially now that they had a new discovery to work with. No, Dr. Hughes and her colleague both knew that they would have to politely reject this offer, even if it came from the woman who supplied them with this wonderful life of theirs.
"If you're asking that question, you need to experience one, Dr. Carson." Elsie couldn't resist a faint snort at Cora's remark, certainly not trusting the situation but managing to find humour in that statement. "Besides, I'd love to have an opinion of a paleobotanist as well. And I've got a jet standing by at Choteau with more than enough space for the two of you."
The pair shared a glance at one another at this, minds fixated on the skeleton that laid only a small way away from the trailer. To say yes to this trip, which would be going out of their way for what seemed to be a trivial matter, well, it just didn't seem right to agree to Cora's terms and drop everything. And, as nice as it'd be to spend a weekend with only each other for company, that was not a good enough reason to abandon their team with this latest dig and say yes.
"I am sorry, Mrs. Crawley," Elsie began, "But I'm afraid that isn't possible. We would need our entire team with us, and we just dug up a new skeleton––"
"The entire team would also be more than welcome to come to our little island. I can easily have another jet on standby." The pair was still rather hesitant, even with that change in offer. "And, of course, I could compensate you by fully funding your dig..."
It was a nice idea to have guaranteed compensation, but they really did have to adamantly refuse, "This is a very unusual time, Mrs. Crawley," "The timing truly is––"
"... For the next three years."
Once again, Elsie found herself caught off guard by the day's conversation. First, that brat Larry Grey and his atrocious behavior, then Charles' atypical manner when he not only helped John terrify Grey but also brought up children of all things. And now Cora Crawley's more-than-generous offer, one that reeked of ulterior motive.
It was far more overwhelming than their latest discovery, to say the least.
And, already, they were being pressed for an answer:
"So, what do you think?"
It was in that moment that, after sharing another look with her colleague, Elsie knew what their answer would be. Three years of funding was incredibly difficult to come by, even for people who'd been working in the field as long as they had. And the amount of work they could get done in that timespan would be simply astonishing, to be quite honest. So, yes, this little weekend would only ensure that they could keep going in this little dream of theirs, this shared passion for fossils and the past.
"In that case, Mrs. Crawley, our only question is this," The American quietly listened with bated breath, eagerly waiting to hear the latest inquiry. "Where's the plane?"
_._
Author's Note: And there you have it –– the main premise of the plot and a fair amount of the characters unveiled!
Now, as I said before, I'm only interested in continuing this if you guys want to see more. If that is the case, there'll be another update in 2-3 days. If not, that'll be that.
Either way, thank you for reading. That in itself is always a treat. And, as always, I hope you have a lovely day!