Owen was a little surprised that Claire agreed to meet him at Margaritaville when he'd suggested it. But he wanted tacos and there was no better place on the island. This time, instead of getting seated in the dining area, they chose to sit over in the pub/bar section at one of the tiny tables. It was noisier, but it also had no children and the TVs were showing the game. Claire didn't seem to mind when he'd suggested it, and he figured she'd probably be happier the less the evening felt like their first date. At least he hadn't shown up in board shorts—he wasn't about to make that mistake again.

They'd looked over the menu together, debating what they were each going to get, before deciding to share the fish tacos and nachos. While Owen was used to sharing plates of nachos with the guys when they'd watch a game, he'd never really done so with someone he was dating. It wasn't that he was against doing so, it was more that by the time they'd get seated the woman had already picked out what she was ordering and had a specific preference to her food. Claire's casualness around it all was oddly refreshing, although part of him was a little confused when he thought back to her reaction on their first date when he'd gone to order. He decided that he probably just needed to chalk up everything that happened on that date to both of them being awkward and uncomfortable and forget it all. That the Claire he was interacting with now, was the "real" Claire.

At some point, Claire excused herself to the bathroom. Owen was busy watching the game when their waiter approached, saying, "Back for more, are you?"

Owen turned, surprised by the comment. "What do you mean?"

"Just surprised that you're dating her, after your first date and all," the waiter shrugged. "That was such a disaster…"

"How would you–" Owen stopped, eyes narrowing, a few things clicking into place. Of course it would make sense that the person who'd spread the rumours about their date was a waiter. Who else had had a front row seat, besides him and Claire? And he knew neither of them were behind it. He smiled tightly, "Just goes to show that you read it all wrong."

"I don't think so," the waiter laughed. "Trust me, I see all sorts of dates go down here."

"Yeah, well," Owen could see Claire returning over the waiter's shoulder. "Some people are worth a second chance."

"Hey," Claire said, sliding back onto her seat, a quizzical expression on her face as she looked at the waiter who was still standing there.

"I was just going to order another beer," Owen said, holding up his almost empty bottle. "Do you want one?"

"Can I just get some more water?" Claire asked, and the waiter nodded, before hurrying off. "What was that about?"

"Nothing, I see him all the time when the guys and I come and watch the games," Owen dismissed him. He wasn't sure how Claire would respond to the knowledge that the waiter had started the rumours way back when. And, anyway, it's not like it mattered anymore. That was months ago, and they were dating now. Well, at least to everyone else's knowledge. He could see their waiter returning, and Owen acted on impulse, leaning over the table to kiss Claire. It wasn't quite a peck, lasting a smidge longer. He was surprised when he felt her start to respond, just as he was pulling back. Claire looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but Owen simply smiled in return, before turning to the waiter to accept his new beer.

The rest of their meal was uneventful, and before long, the two of them were leaving the restaurant.

"So, do I get to spend the night again?" Owen asked softly, his hand on Claire's back as he followed her out the door. It was only because he was standing so close to her that he registered the small falter in her steps. When she didn't reply after a moment, he added, "It's been a couple of weeks."

He'd slept so well that one night, even after his initial hesitancy (and ignoring the rude 5:30 am alarm), that he'd been looking forward to a repeat ever since. But Claire hadn't brought it up again, and he hadn't been sure if he should mention it. Taking her hand in his, they started down Main Street, away from the restaurant.

"Yeah, okay," Claire finally agreed, sounding a little put out by the idea.

"You don't have to sound so happy about it," Owen nudged her, bumping his hip against hers. "I just think people are going to think it's odd that we don't seem to spend any time alone together. But, you know, if it's that big of a deal…"

"It's not," Claire said after a pause, before continuing, a bit annoyed. "And I get it. I just… I'm sick of being screwed over by people's expectations."

Owen couldn't help his burst of laughter.

Claire just looked at him oddly, "What?"

"You know, if you wanted, you could get screwed over a different way," Owen wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, gripping her hand tighter as she tried to pull away from him. "Kidding, kidding," he said, still laughing. He started forward again, Claire falling into step beside him, but he could see a slight grimace on her face. "You know," Owen offered, "All of this is just going to improve your reputation."

"And don't you see how terrible that is?" Claire shook her head. "I don't want people to respect me based on who they think I'm… screwing."

"It's just the way things are. And, come on, what's wrong with me? No one would blame you for finding me irresistible," Owen said, a large grin on his face. "Oh! Or are you afraid you can't? I mean, I know it's hard, but–"

This time it was Claire who burst out laughing. It took her a moment, but she finally choked out, "Really Owen? You know it's hard?"

"Well, somehow I doubt you'd want it any other way," Owen teased playfully.

"Ugh, Owen," Claire pushed at him lightly, but she was still laughing.

"I've got stamina, baby, I can keep this up all night," Owen chuckled. "You can just lie back and prepare to be amazed."

"I don't know, I generally prefer to be on top," Claire replied, and Owen was sure that his heart stopped for a second, his jaw dropping at her remark. He hadn't actually expected her to join in on the teasing.

"Tell you what," Owen said, pulling Claire behind him as he ducked between two buildings, "You can have a ride right now."

"What? Owen!" Claire exclaimed, and Owen delighted in the horrified look on her face. "I'm not…"

"Relax, Claire," Owen laughed, as they exited the gap into the backlot employee area. "You've got a dirty mind. I was referring to my motorcycle. I don't want to leave it parked here all night."

o-o-o

Parking beside Claire's Mercedes, Owen helped her disembark. It had been a short ride, less than 5 minutes around the lagoon to the hotel, but Claire still felt a bit shaky. She'd never been on a motorcycle before and had been a little hesitant to get on one tonight. But, she trusted Owen. She wasn't sure exactly when that had happened, but she realized that she did, implicitly, when she didn't argue and cautiously got on behind him.

Claire was a little surprised when he pulled a small bag from the back, before following her towards the hotel. "Wait… did you bring a change of clothes?"

"Boy Scout motto—'always be prepared,'" Owen said, holding the hotel door open for her.

"Somehow I doubt you were ever a Boy Scout," Claire replied.

"You're right, I wasn't," Owen chuckled. "Too much rigidity, not enough camping."

Claire gave him a long look as they rode the elevator up to her floor.

"What?"

"I can't decide what kind of a kid you were," Claire finally said, opening her door and entering her place.

"What do you mean?" Owen asked. Claire watched as he made his way to her couch, grabbing his Xbox controller and turning on her TV, looking completely at home in her place.

"I can't decide if you were the type who broke all the rules or…"

"I wasn't a goody two shoes like you, that's for sure," Owen replied.

"Hey, I'll have you know–"

"What? That you broke some rules?" Owen said. "Let me guess, you were one of those kids who learned all the rules so they could know exactly how to get around them. Bending, skirting and finding loopholes, but never really breaking them."

"Argh," Claire growled in frustration. She moved about her place, finding her laptop before joining Owen on the couch.

"Work?" Owen nodded at her laptop.

"Yeah," Claire sighed, opening her email. "Sorry."

"Is this okay?" Owen asked, and Claire looked up to see him gesturing to the TV. "I mean, it's not too distracting?"

"It's fine. I've worked around worse," Claire settled back against the couch, feet up on the coffee table. Actually, it was more than fine. Sure, she'd had to put up with a lot of noisy work environments in the past and she normally preferred to work in silence, but there was something comfortable about sitting there with Owen while he played Madden, occasionally shouting at the screen. It wasn't nearly as distracting as she'd thought it would be, even when he'd interrupt her to exclaim "did you see that?" about something that she had, clearly, not seen.

When she finally made it through her last email (well, the last one she was going to deal with for the night), she closed her laptop, setting it aside. She got up and headed into the bathroom to start getting ready for bed. As she exited the bathroom, she noticed that Owen was still playing, and so she ducked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her so she could get changed. She'd just settled into her bed when there was a knock on her door.

"Yeah?" Claire called out, climbing out of the bed, realizing she'd forgotten to pull out the extra blanket for him.

Before she could reach it, the door opened and Owen strolled in, looking ready for bed. He headed straight around her bed to the left side, pulling the covers back.

"Um, what do you think you're doing?" Claire asked, startled, standing with her hands on her hips.

"Going to bed," he said, climbing under the covers.

"Um, not in here you aren't," she shook her head, pointing towards the door. "Out."

"I'm not sleeping on the couch," he disagreed, before squirming until he was lying down, turning on his side so he was still facing her.

"I took the couch last time, it's your turn," Claire argued.

"No way," Owen pulled the covers up higher. "Your couch is too short. Besides, your bed is so comfortable."

"I know," Claire fumed. "Get out!" When he didn't say anything, just closing his eyes, pretending to be asleep, Claire stormed around the bed, yanking on the covers. "Owen, this is not funny. That was a one-time offer."

"Make me," he grinned up at her, holding tight to the covers.

"Owen," she whined, still tugging on them. For a moment, she thought she was winning, the covers starting to move, and then Owen gave a giant tug, and the next thing she knew, Claire found herself sprawled half on Owen, half on the other side of the bed. She scrambled off him, sitting up on her side, scowling down at him.

Owen just grinned at her, reaching out to pat the space just below her pillow. "Tell you what, we can share."

"Share?" Claire repeated, trying not to sound horrified at the thought. Her mind was flashing back to their conversation as they had left the restaurant, and she could feel her cheeks heating up.

"I promise to stick to my side," he said, as if he was reading her thoughts. "Make sure you stick to yours."

Growling, she clambered under the covers, lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, feeling unsure how she'd ended up in this position. She could feel the mattress moving as Owen shifted beside her, but she didn't dare look over at him, sure of the grin that would be plastered across his face. "If you snore, I'll kill you," she threatened.

"I don't snore!" Claire grinned at Owen's horrified tone.

She finally turned her head to look at him. "Are you sure about that?"

o-o-o

Entering the boardroom Claire was happy to see that Zara had got there early enough to grab them both seats at the table. She knew it was going to be a packed meeting, as Henry was finally giving his initial presentation on the new asset. The meeting was for everyone who would be involved: sales and marketing, merchandising, public relations, ACU, vets and more.

When she'd received the meeting notice a couple of days before, she'd told Owen, who had been disappointed that he wasn't one of the many invited. He'd immediately insisted that he get to come over after the meeting so that she could fill him in. She shouldn't have been surprised, he'd pretty much invited himself over every time he'd spent the night so far, which was already way more times than the zero she'd ever expected. (Well, at least after their horrible first date, she may have thought about it before then.)

Have they admitted it's part raptor?

Claire picked up her phone when it vibrated, barely managing to suppress her eye roll at Owen's text. It hasn't even started yet. I told you I'd tell you tonight. After sending her reply, Claire put her phone back on the table, face down.

"Is that Owen?" Zara asked, her voice low as she leaned towards Claire.

"Yeah," Claire nodded, her phone already vibrating with a response. She groaned and picked it up to check.

Why can't you just tell me as it happens?

Because I don't use my phone during meetings. It's rude. Claire replied.

I think this warrants an exception. Owen quickly messaged back.

Claire groaned. No, it doesn't. I'm putting my phone on DND. And then she followed through, placing her phone back down.

"What does he want?" Zara asked.

Claire had to give her assistant credit. She knew Zara was eager for more details about what was going on with her and Owen. And that Zara had felt a bit neglected when she'd realized that Claire and Owen had started to date and that Claire hadn't told her. Claire hadn't told her for purely selfish reasons—she wasn't sure she could keep up the lie. She was sure that Zara would ask prying questions she'd have no idea how to answer, while knowing that she should have an answer. Well, should if they really were dating. And, like now, what was she supposed to say? It's not like she could say Owen was interested in the meeting, after all, he technically had no reason to be.

"Making plans for tonight," Claire finally said with a tight smile. It wasn't really a lie.

"Ooh," Zara said, teasing Claire by wiggling her eyebrows and laughing lightly.

"Dinner plans," Claire corrected, but her assistant's antics had her laughing along.

"Right," Zara drew out the word with a wink. Claire almost groaned, but Zara's next line stopped her. "It's really nice to see you so happy."

Thankfully, Claire didn't have to reply, as Henry moved to the head of the table, gaining everyone's attention. She pulled her pad of paper closer to her, ready to take notes. She used to do so on her phone, but found it was too easy to get distracted by incoming notifications of emails. Now, she took notes on paper. It also gave her a built in chance to review them later when she transferred them onto her laptop. A lot of her follow up inquiries after meetings came from those reviews.

Henry's initial presentation didn't yield much information. He wasn't even revealing the name yet, claiming they were still in the process of determining what it should be, but that it would be announced soon. In fact, Claire found herself with a mostly empty pad of paper in front of her as Henry concluded. All she'd really learned was that they had four eggs incubating, with an expected hatching date for late September. And, she'd already assumed eggs were incubating when she'd got the original notice for the meeting. She didn't think he'd have called the meeting before things were well in motion.

The moment he finished, Claire pounced. She wanted more information. She was determined, this time, not to just take what he'd give without pushing for more. "Thank you, Henry, for your presentation. However, I have to say, even after all that, I find I have almost nothing to go off of. With the Indominus, you at least were able to give me the name by this point. And that it was based off the T. rex. All you've shared is that you've created a new hybrid that will be smaller than the T. rex and that there are plans to hire a behaviourist from the start." Claire saw that Henry was about to interrupt her, but she plowed ahead with her questions. "What's this dinosaur based on? What other strands of DNA were used to create it? What are the possible implications of those additions? We need to have learned from the Indominus. It wasn't the T. rex DNA that gave her the ability to camouflage. It was something else."

Claire had to bite her tongue to keep from revealing that she already knew about the use of raptor, cuttlefish and tree frog DNA in the Indominus. Instead, she focused her attention on Henry, waiting for a response. Out of her periphery, she could see a few others leaning forward as well. Good, it wasn't just her who was interested.

"We took the knowledge we learned from the Indominus into consideration when we designed the current specimen," Henry replied, looking aggravated at the questions.

"Consideration? What does that mean, exactly?" Claire pried. "I want to know that we've learned from the Indominus. We can't go down that path again. It's already going to be much harder to get sponsors now."

"Every dinosaur we create in the lab is a learning opportunity," Henry said. "We're always taking that knowledge and using it to improve on the next. However, just because a final result isn't ideal, it doesn't mean that all the steps taken to get there should be immediately disregarded. There were many positive results from the Indominus."

"Such as?" This time it wasn't Claire who was asking, and she looked down the table to see one of the marketing guys, Mark, had spoken up. "We're going to be asked about this dinosaur in relation to the Indominus. Anyway we can spin the Indominus in a positive light is information that would be useful."

"The driving force behind the Indominus was the goal of bigger, scarier and more teeth. While we've shelved the 'bigger' part of the goal, we are still interested in making a dinosaur that brings about the same effect. Creating the Indominus taught us a lot about developing exaggerated predator features."

Claire's eyes narrowed as Henry spoke. Great, another dinosaur meant to terrify. And that pretty much confirmed for Claire that raptor DNA was involved. After all, the report Lowery had got her had stated that was the reasoning behind using raptor in the Indominus. If they were taking lessons from that, then raptor DNA would be something they would keep. Of course, that ignored the increased intelligence that the Indominus had, a side effect that Owen was positive was a result of the raptor DNA.

"So this hybrid, or dinosaur, it's going to be an 'exaggerated predator'?" Mark followed up.

"Not an exaggerated predator," Henry shook his head, a look of disgust crossing his face. "Exaggerated features. The 'more teeth' aspect that Simon Masrani requested before."

"For the Indominus, you started with the T. rex. What animals were used to exaggerate the predator features?" Claire asked, feeling clever at having found a way to continue to push on the topic without revealing what she knew. "I mean, a lion doesn't seem all that scary compared to a dinosaur. Are you combining DNA from multiple dinosaur species?" There was a murmur that went around the room at Claire's words, but she ignored them, keeping her gaze focused on Henry. He appeared a little unsettled by her question, like he wasn't quite sure how to answer it.

"Oh, can you just pull different features from the various dinosaurs?" Someone spoke up. "Like, I want the Triceratop horns combined with the tail from a Ankylosaurus and with the Stegosaurus plates down the back?"

"It's not like picking off a menu," Henry fumed. "Even though our knowledge of genetics has grown by leaps and bounds, we are still far from having mastered the genetic code."

"How do you end up with exaggerated features?" another person asked. "It's not just luck, right?"

"Luck?" Henry looked really put out now. "It's not at all luck. We're very good at our jobs. We focus on species that are similar, but have different predator features emphasized. For example, if you take the T. rex and the Velociraptor. While they're both theropods, the T. rex is noticeably louder and bigger, but the Velociraptor has increased intelligence and agility."

"So are you saying that you would have to combine theropods together?" Claire asked.

"Not have too," Henry shook his head. "But, yes, that is the easiest way forward."

"So for the Indominus, it was based on the T. rex. Are you saying that you used DNA from other theropods?" Could she get him to confirm the Velociraptor connection publicly?

"We explored that option, yes," Henry said, trying to not commit.

"And this new dinosaur, this hybrid," Claire continued, "You said you're using what you learned from the Indominus. Does that mean that this is part T. rex? Or part Indominus?"

"Sort of," Henry said, equivocating. "It's not that simple. And, like I said, this one is expected to be much smaller than the Indominus. It will not be T. rex sized."

"That sounds like another dinosaur is the 'base,'" Mark spoke up again. "Or, at least a large part of it. Another theropod?"

"What dinosaurs do we have that are theropods?" someone else questioned.

"The Allosaurus and the Microceratus," another person quickly rattled off.

"Don't forget the Carnotaurus," came another offering.

"So, what was used here?" Claire asked, redirecting the conversation back to Henry.

"In order to be able to best track the development, we try to limit the number of species involved." When Henry paused, Claire thought he was done. She could see the storm brewing in his expression, that he didn't like what he was being pressed to admit to. To her surprise, he continued, "I can confirm that for this hybrid we have used some Velociraptor DNA."

Again, a loud murmur ran around the room. Everyone there was generally aware of the existence of the IBRIS project on the island, but few had ever actually seen the raptors, as they were considered off limits to anyone not directly involved in the project (or higher up in management like Claire).

"Wait, does that mean what you made is part Indominus and part raptor?" someone called out.

"Ooh, can we give it a couple name?" another chimed in.

"Like 'velociminus'?" was offered by a third.

"I was thinking more like 'indoraptor,'" the second replied.

"Oh, that is better," the third said, and was met with nods of agreement around the room.

Claire didn't catch who was speaking, but there was laughter throughout the room. She had tried to keep her focus on Henry, noting the way he had tensed at the comments. From his reaction, it looked like they had hit close to home. The laughter also broke through the tension that had been building, and Claire watched as Henry used the opportunity to wrap it up. They were nearing the end of their allotted time anyway, and she doubted she'd be able to get anything else out of him. Not now, anyway. She'd try again later. At least she had some information to work off of now.

She picked up her phone, unable to suppress her small smile (and groan) at the number of missed messages from Owen. Claire really wasn't sure what to make of him finally deciding that he apparently liked having his phone around and enjoyed texting. She sort of felt like she'd corrupted him. Unlocking it, she scanned the messages.

You should make an exception, just this once.

I don't think it's fair that I have to wait until tonight.

Wait, did you really put your phone on DND or are you just ignoring me?

This isn't fair, Claire.

Tell me.

Please.

At least let me know if they confirm if they used raptor. Don't make me wait.

She decided to throw him a bone, tapping out: Part raptor. Part Indominus.

Her phone beeped only a few seconds later. Wait? Doesn't that make it double raptor? Raptor squared?

For the first time since the meeting started, Claire let out a small smile. Not clear. I don't know proportions, but if it's supposed to be smaller than the T. rex, I'm thinking it may be primarily raptor. Someone's already nicknamed it the Indoraptor.

The reply was almost immediate: This is not good.

No shit.

o-o-o

A couple of weeks after they'd received confirmation that the new hybrid was going to be at least somewhat part raptor, Owen was parking his motorcycle at the hotel again. Somehow, they'd fallen into a bit of a pattern (a thought that both made him cringe and roll his eyes—was Claire organizing him now?) where he'd spend at least one night each week at her place (often two). Depending on their schedules, they'd have dinner first, usually on Main Street. On top of that, Claire usually came out to his place for a few hours at some point (although she'd continued to refuse to stay over there), and they tried to fit in at least one lunch or quick break.

He hadn't even noticed how much time he was spending with her until Barry had pointed it out the other week. Barry had said that he was surprised that they were still together. That he'd sort of expected it to fizzle out quickly, expecting that Owen wouldn't actually like the change of pace.

The comments had made Owen pause. He hadn't realized how long it had been since they'd decided to start (fake) dating, until then. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd slept with someone, until then. He'd never gone that long before. And yet… he was finding that it wasn't bothering him, or at least, not to the degree he expected. He definitely had no interest in becoming celibate, but he was actually really happy with his life at the moment. Sure, his relationship with Claire was fake, but really only the dating part. He knew that they weren't actually being fake with each other. He'd caught on early that she wasn't a good liar. And even if she was, they were spending a lot more time away from any prying eyes, giving both of them a chance to just be themselves without feeling like they had to put on an act.

It was their time alone that had ended up surprising Owen most of all, because it was easy. They didn't struggle for conversation. She didn't bug him about playing video games or watching whatever game was on. And it didn't bother him that while she often sat with him while he watched and played (and still occasionally played with him), she usually had her laptop and would be answering emails. He'd never understood the idea of comfortable silence before, having always felt the need when he was around others to be doing or saying something. It was also one of the reasons he'd chosen to live where he did—he always thought he needed a lot of alone time. But he was now discovering that maybe it was the who that mattered. Time around Claire wasn't exhausting the way it often was around others.

As he rode the elevator up to her floor, it struck him that Claire was probably the first woman he'd ever slept with who he hadn't actually slept with. Not only that, but he'd probably spent more nights with her now, than he had any other woman. Unlike almost all the other women, he didn't feel a need to escape her place on the nights he stayed. And it wasn't just that her bed really was that comfortable. In the past, part of his motivation to escape was to avoid the awkwardness of the morning after. But, somehow, that had never materialized with Claire. He'd kind of expected it to, especially once they ended up sharing her bed. That was not something he'd planned on. But it was something that had, surprisingly, not ended up awkward. Really, his whole relationship with Claire could be summed up by that word, surprise.

Stepping out of the elevator, he quickly strode down the hall, realizing that he was looking forward to the evening. Not that he hadn't in the past, but that it no longer felt like a box he was ticking off—"meet with Claire to keep up pretense." Instead, it now just felt like meeting up with a friend; casual, easy, and with no expectations.

When he reached her door, he knocked, waiting impatiently for her to answer, not that she took long.

"Hey," Claire said, opening the door and stepping aside to let him in. "What did you bring?"

"Burgers," Owen held up the bag. "And yes, I asked for extra pickles."

"Fries?"

"What's a burger without them?" Owen passed the bag over, grinning as Claire pulled it open, inspecting the contents.

"Is there a game?" Claire asked, looking over at the TV.

"Nope, not tonight," Owen shook his head. He followed Claire into the kitchen area, knowing that she'd want to eat over at the table if they weren't watching something. As she emptied the bag, he rooted around in the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers, popping off the tops and carrying them over to the table. As the two sat down, Claire handed over his burger before piling all the fries onto a shared plate between them.

They ate quietly for a couple of minutes before Claire spoke up. "So, I was doing laundry and I found something."

"Hm?" Owen questioned, his mouth still full.

"What are your jeans doing in my laundry?"

Owen swallowed before asking, "Where did you expect me to put them?"

"Wherever you normally put your laundry."

"I thought it'd be odd if I was seen leaving here with a pile of my dirty laundry," Owen shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

"You expect me to be doing your laundry now?" Claire sounded exasperated by the idea.

Owen had to bite back his grin over just how put out she looked. "Well, no…"

"So I was just supposed to… do what when I found them?" Claire asked.

"I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead," Owen admitted. "It's just habit. Dirty clothes go in the laundry hamper." Which was the truth, it was habit. But, he had originally taken his clothes home. It was just becoming a pain, and so the last time he'd stayed over, he'd instead done what was normal, when he changed, he'd put the clothes into the hamper. And he really hadn't thought about her finding them.

He watched as Claire took a bite of her burger, looking thoughtful as she chewed. After she swallowed, she nodded slowly. "Okay, well, if you're going to be staying over this often, I think we need to divide out some chores."

"I'll take the outside ones," Owen quickly claimed.

"I live in a condo. That's part of a hotel. There are no outside chores," Claire stated matter-of-factly, looking unimpressed by his comment.

"Exactly." Owen let loose a grin, catching the fry she chucked at him and popping it into his mouth.

"I'm being serious," Claire groaned. "It's only fair."

"Hey, I brought dinner, I'm pulling my weight," he said, gesturing to the meal between them.

"Are you volunteering to clean the kitchen?" she asked.

"You mean throw out our garbage, put the one plate in the dishwasher and rinse out our beer bottles? Yeah, I think I can do that," he nodded.

"I mean taking that on as your chore, not just for tonight."

"You know," Owen said, an idea percolating. "If I have to do chores now, if we're becoming that serious, I think I deserve a key." He watched Claire, expecting her to immediately deny the request. After all, she didn't strike him as someone who'd be willing to just hand over her keys. That she let him invade her space as often as he was still surprised him.

"Deal, I'll get you one in the morning," Claire replied, shocking Owen into silence. "I was thinking you could deal with the garbage and recycling too."

"Wait, what chores are you keeping?"

Claire just looked at him flatly, before stating dryly, "Apparently, laundry."

So... confirmed it's going to be the Indoraptor... or at least similar to it. Not that I was really hiding that. ;) But now that the eggs are incubating, Claire and Owen are running out of options...