I'm trying to balance chapters between Jurassic and clawen, but this one was definitely all clawen. But, next chapter you'll get to meet the behaviourist. Both sides have their time to shine, but I hope you're enjoying both halves. And please remember that I really really really do mean slow burn.

Chapter 13

Owen was sitting in a chair on his dock holding a fishing rod when he heard Claire's Mercedes pull up. He didn't bother to turn around, still feeling put out from the news that the behaviourist they were hiring for the Indoraptors (yep, they'd really chosen to go with that name) would be shadowing him and Barry for a couple weeks close to the expected hatching date. When Hoskins (it had to be him, right?) had delivered the news, Owen had been left fuming.

He'd texted Claire only to find out that she already knew. Why hadn't she told him? What was the point of everything they were doing if they weren't actually going to share information? He'd sent back Thanks for giving me a head's up, before walking away from his phone, not sure he could trust himself to say anything else. When he'd glanced at his phone later, he'd seen a string of missed messages, but he'd only read the last one, where Claire said she hoped it'd be okay if she stopped by later. He hadn't bothered to respond.

When he'd arrived home, he'd tried to work on his motorcycle for a while, but found he couldn't focus. He'd moved out onto his dock, picking up his fishing rod out of habit and casting it onto the lake. He wasn't really fishing, at least, not in the sense of actively trying to catch something. It was more just about engaging in a mindless activity—cast, reel, repeat—for a while, letting his thoughts simmer, hoping to find some calm. At some point, he'd ended up sitting in the chair he kept out on the dock, which just made his casting that much worse, not having the right leverage, but he couldn't be bothered enough to get up.

"You can be really petty, can't you?"

Owen just grunted an acknowledgement, listening to Claire's footsteps as she came down onto the dock to join him.

"Seriously, Owen?" The exasperation in Claire's voice came through clearly. "I'm betting you didn't read any of my messages, did you?" She paused, but Owen remained silent. "I only found out 10 minutes before you texted me. I hadn't even had time to tell you yet. Do you really think that little of me?"

Owen let out a slow breath, before finally turning to look at Claire. She was standing just off to his side, hands on her hips, glaring down at him. "I'm sorry. It's just that Hoskins announced it with no warning and I... I didn't react well."

"No kidding!" Claire stated, the sarcasm thick.

Owen just gave a small shrug, not really sure what else to say. He'd apologized, what more did she want from him?

Claire dug around in her pocket, before pulling out a key card which she handed over. "I came over because I finally managed to get a key sorted out."

Owen took it, feeling chagrined. Here he was being pissed off and she'd been following through on something he still wasn't really sure she wanted to do, even if she hadn't put up a fight. "Thanks."

"Catch anything?" Claire asked, changing the subject.

"No," Owen shook his head, starting to reel in his line again. "But I'm really not trying to. I just find it relaxing."

"I don't get it," Claire admitted, shifting to look out over the water. "I mean, what's relaxing about putting a hook into a poor fish's mouth? And then having to kill it? Seems the opposite of relaxing to me."

"Says the person who seems to order fish half the time we go out," Owen remarked, a smile finally gracing his features.

"I don't have to kill it," Claire shrugged.

"You need to get back to basics," Owen said, standing up from his chair, having reeled the line in. "Here, why don't you give it a try."

"I don't want to kill a fish," Claire protested, even as she accepted the rod.

"You won't," Owen reassured her. "I don't even have bait on the line. Like I said, I'm not actually trying to catch something tonight."

"Then, what's the point? I'm just supposed to throw this line into the water and what? It's supposed to be fun?"

"Oh, so now you want to catch a fish?" Owen asked, facing her as he adjusted her hold on the rod, moving her right hand into position by the reel.

"No…"

"It's relaxing," Owen repeated, moving around to stand behind her. "It's quiet, calm, and something to do that's just a step up from sitting around." He placed his hands over top of hers on the rod, guiding her to hold it in the proper position, her back pulled to his chest. He felt her stiffen against him, and he shifted slightly allowing more space between them. Was he making her uncomfortable? While they'd definitely become closer, easily holding hands and sharing the odd kiss, they hadn't actually had all that much physical interaction. And when they had, it had usually been limited to when they were in public, putting on a show for other employees. He'd been very careful every night they'd shared a bed to make sure he'd left space between them, not wanting to push her too far.

"So to cast, it's pretty simple." Owen walked her through the steps, helping her move the rod through the positions a few times, before they actually released the line. Once it landed in the water, he helped her reel it in, before stepping to the side. "Okay, now you try."

It took a few tries, as she let out the line too early, sending it straight up, and then too late, dropping it at her feet, before she managed to cast it out onto the lake. Once she'd reeled it in again, and successfully cast it back out, Owen moved back to his chair, settling back on it with a grin on his face, legs crossed at the ankles in front of him. He kind of wished he had his phone on him now, so he could get a picture of Claire, dressed in her work clothes, everything still perfectly in place from her makeup all the way down to her heels, standing on his dock casting a fishing line. This was a sight he had definitely never expected to see.

He watched as she cast a few more times before she stopped, turning to look at him. "Are you feeling any better now?"

And just like that, a scowl crossed his face, his thoughts redirected to the news of the afternoon. "Why me? Can't you do something? It's going to disrupt my research, my training."

"As much as people like to act like I'm in charge of everything around here, I'm really not," Claire said. "This is something I have no control over."

"I really thought there'd be more perks to all this," Owen sighed, his gaze drifting back out over the lake.

"To… what? Our fake dating?" Claire asked.

"Yeah," Owen nodded looking back to her, his grin reappearing. "I mean, you're the boss. Shouldn't I get some sort of special treatment?"

"Ha ha," Claire stated flatly, her own gaze skimming across the lake for a moment, before returning to his. "You know…"

"What?" Owen asked when she trailed off. She was shifting nervously now, which put Owen on guard. An unconfident Claire was not something he was used to. In fact, so far, every time he'd tried to unbalance her, he'd been the one who always seemed to end up off-kilter.

"I guess… I've been just sort of wondering if this… if we should be doing this."

"The fishing?" Owen played dumb, but Claire just gave him a look, her posture shifting as she stood straighter. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react. Just because it was fake, didn't mean that it was all fake. At least, not for him. But maybe that wasn't how she saw it. "The fake dating," Owen nodded. "Yeah, I've wondered too. Are you thinking we should 'break up'?"

"Not–I don't know," Claire admitted. "I mean… the eggs are already incubating. It's starting to feel like we can't do anything. That all of this was for nothing."

"Not nothing," Owen disagreed. "We wouldn't know about the raptor DNA. And who knows if they would've hired a behaviourist?"

"They're still trying to make something scarier and cooler with more teeth," Claire groaned. "They haven't learned anything. We haven't changed anything."

"I know we can't stop them from being born, but I don't think it's over. Not yet. Maybe we'll be pleasantly surprised, and it'll all turn out fine. But until this thing hatches, until we see what it can do, I don't think we should give up." Owen paused, debating if he should say what he was thinking. He hadn't expected to enjoy his time with Claire so much. He pulled out the key she'd handed over when she arrived from his pocket, turning it over in his hands as he stared at it. Was it all really about to be over? "If the fake dating is too much, we don't have to continue it. But, I'm…" Owen gritted his teeth, but he found he couldn't follow through, chickening out before the words he wanted to say could escape. Instead, he said, "I've really enjoyed having you as my friend. I don't want to lose that." He risked a glance up at Claire and saw that her own gaze was caught on the key he was holding. He held it up towards her, "Do you want it back?"

There was a brief pause as her eyes shot to his, and he didn't know how to read the look that crossed her face. When she started to answer, Owen braced himself, unsure what to expect. Her question caught him off guard. "Do you think something might happen after it's born?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. He wasn't sure how to take her deflection, but decided to go with it. "I find it hard to believe that Hoskins has been involved in all of this and it's going to end with just another attraction. I feel like we're still missing something. Something big. I really don't think it's over."

"Are you still thinking they might try to remove one of the eggs?" Claire asked skeptically. "I've been down to the lab since Henry's presentation. Security has increased again, and the four eggs are very obvious. I don't think it'd be easy for one to go missing. Not without raising alarms."

"Where there's a will…" Owen joked weakly. "If it's not removing a dinosaur, it's got to be something else. The only clear goal I see from Hoskins is figuring out a military use for dinosaurs."

"Which doesn't make any sense for an attraction," Claire reminded him. "What good is a militarized dinosaur that will be stuck in a paddock with thousands of visitors traipsing by to watch it eat?" Owen scowled at the thought. He hated that he could think of uses for a militarized dinosaur (although, being stuck in a paddock as an attraction definitely wasn't one of them).

"Actually," Claire continued, pulling Owen from his thoughts, "maybe the behaviourist shadowing you will be a good thing. If they're planning to train this dinosaur, the same way you are, or with some nefarious goal in mind, the behaviourist will have to be in on it. Maybe you can learn something from them."

"Maybe," Owen said, although he didn't like thinking about the behaviourist at all. He wished he knew who they had hired. Or just more about the project in general. He only knew as much as he did about the Indoraptor because of Claire. He didn't like being left in the dark.

Claire glanced down at her watch. "I actually gotta go," she said, holding the fishing rod she was still clutching out towards him.

"Yeah, no problem," Owen nodded, standing up from his chair and taking the rod. He propped it back up using the bucket he had on the dock specifically for that purpose, before walking beside Claire as she headed back towards her car.

"I do want to say," Claire said, staring at the ground for a moment before meeting his eyes. "I really like having you as my friend, too. I don't want to lose that either."

Owen couldn't help the relieved smile that crossed his face at her words. He had been feeling a little nervous about it all, like he'd put himself out on a limb and had been left hanging, when she hadn't responded to his line earlier. "Good."

"I do need to get back though," Claire said, pulling her door open. "But… are we still on for lunch tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely," Owen nodded. "I'll come by your office."

"Thanks."

Owen watched as Claire got into her car, remaining in his spot as she pulled out, until he couldn't see her anymore. Then, sighing heavily, he turned around, looking back over his lot, trying to decide what to do now.

He was feeling a bit unsettled after her visit, which wasn't a feeling he was used to after the past few months. He was still annoyed by the upcoming shadowing by the behaviourist, but that wasn't what was on his mind. He was grateful for his friendship with Claire. It was something he'd never expected, and yet, his interactions with her, over text or in person, had quickly become the best part of his days.

Barry had commented the other day that Owen seemed happier and more relaxed recently. Then, Barry had joked that maybe what Owen had needed all along was a steady girlfriend. The comment had almost stopped him in his tracks; thankfully the falter in his footsteps had gone unnoticed. Since then, he'd been thinking about Claire and what they were doing more and more. Would a real relationship be such a bad thing? Clearly the past few months had shown that their first date was an aberration. They got along really well, both sliding easily into the other's life. He actually liked spending time with her; looking forward to every encounter, something he couldn't say about most people.

"Are you thinking we should 'break up'?"

Neither of them had actually answered his question from earlier. When he'd made the comment about being friends, he'd thought that she might say something. And when she hadn't, initially, he had been afraid that he'd read everything wrong. That maybe everything really had been an act this whole time. That while he was starting to entertain the idea of something more, something real, that she still saw him as a means to an end. He was both relieved and disappointed that she said she liked having him as a friend.

Maybe Barry had been right all those months ago—that Claire was different—and maybe he really didn't deserve anything more.

Pulling out the key she'd handed him, he looked down at it briefly before shoving it back into his pocket and striding towards his dock, focused on the fishing rod he'd been using earlier. Mindless. He could definitely go for something mindless.

o-o-o

As she turned onto the road leading away from Owen's place, Claire caught sight of the bag sitting on her passenger seat and the smile she had pasted on during their conversation fell away, her shoulders slumping.

What a day. What a week.

When Owen had asked her for a key the other day, she'd confidently replied sure, not wanting him to know he'd caught her off guard. They'd ended up being in a rush out of her place the following morning (Owen, unbeknownst to her, having reset her alarm for what he claimed was a more civilized waking time of 7) and so she hadn't had time to get one made. And then she had forgotten to do so yesterday. But this morning she'd remembered, stopping by the front desk on her way out.

When she had been waiting for her turn (she wasn't about to use her seniority to jump ahead of guests here), a thought that had been bouncing around the back of her mind for the past few days had pushed its way forward, grabbing her attention. It had been niggling at her ever since Zara had made her comment about how happy Claire was. She'd realized that Zara was right, she was happy. She still didn't quite grasp how Owen had gone from the person she'd had a terrible date with, to the guy she was now willingly giving a key to her place, even though he was a guy she wasn't actually dating. And not just that, somehow Owen had become the first person she thought of whenever something happened, good or bad, that she wanted to share.

For the first time in her life, Claire was finding ways to delegate more of her work to others, trying to free up her evenings and block out lunches so that when she and Owen met up she could spend the time with him and not on her laptop. And the nights that they didn't felt longer and lonelier. That's not to say she didn't still enjoy her work. She did, and she still found herself sucked right into it every day. It was just turning out to be surprisingly relaxing to have someone to touch base with for a few minutes throughout the day who wasn't directly tied to her job. Sort of a reminder to look up every once in a while.

When she had finally reached the counter to ask for a duplicate key, she'd thought about how just doing that—just asking for a key—was going to start a whole new round of rumours. Normally, the thought would've made her cringe and groan, but she had found that she didn't care. Let them talk about it. There was nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about.

And, to be honest, the idea of coming home and finding Owen already in her place wasn't actually unsettling. She had found herself looking forward to it. The truth was, she liked Owen. And she liked who she was with him. It was those thoughts that had been making her rethink everything.

When she thought back to their first date, it still made her cringe, but not just because of his behaviour now. She realized that she shared some of the blame (not 50/50, but she'd take responsibility for a smaller piece). It seemed like, in hindsight, her sister was right—they had definitely had wires crossed over the date. When she'd agreed to fake dating, she'd been mostly nervous about how they were going to manage to spend time together without getting on each others' nerves. Worried that the few encounters they'd had post-date were the aberrations, and that it wouldn't take long before she would realize that she should've trusted her reaction after the date. But, it hadn't turned out like that. Instead, she had found that she liked him more. That not only was he someone she could respect because of his work ethic and skills, but as an actual person. That she wanted to spend more time with him and that her heart beat a little faster when she saw a new message from him.

It had made her think that maybe it was time they revisited the whole fake dating thing. That maybe they should consider actually dating. The past few months had shown that they had more in common than they'd expected. Claire thought it had shown that there was something more there. Something, that if they tried, could maybe, possibly, turn into something real.

Claire had almost texted Owen to give him a heads up about the key, but had decided that it would be just as easy to drive out to his place later and surprise him. And then… then her thoughts had taken her a step further. She knew she worked best with plans. That she liked to know what was coming and to feel like she'd thought through all possible angles and outcomes. She wasn't known for being spontaneous, for taking big uncalculated risks, for putting herself out there.

So she had made a plan. And then before she could talk herself out of it, she had quickly retreated back up to her place and packed a bag. If she was going to do this (and she was), then she was going to go all in.

Her morning had been pretty uneventful, disappearing quickly under her normal pile of work, which she'd appreciated even more than usual, as it distracted her from her restlessness and anxiousness over her decision. She had started second guessing herself the moment she'd shown up for work, but she tried hard to tamp down those thoughts.

And then, not long after lunch, she'd received Owen's frantic text about the behaviourist. She had barely sent her initial reply saying yeah, she'd heard, when he'd replied with his sarcastic thanks for the head's up. She had been in the middle of typing out that she'd only just found out and didn't know any details, when that had arrived. She'd sent her reply anyway, and then waited, tensely, for his. When he didn't say anything after a few minutes, she'd cautiously sent another message, asking him what he'd been told, but there had still been no response. When she'd found out a few more details later, she'd passed them along, and again, had received no reply. She hadn't been sure if he was just away from his phone or if he was actively ignoring her.

Claire had thought about the bag out in her car, and then had hesitantly sent a final text just after four, saying that she'd hoped it be okay if she stopped by later.

When she had finally finished for the day, clearing everything off her plate just after seven, she'd stopped in the bathroom and given herself a once over. Maybe this wasn't the best day to make this move, but she felt committed, determined. She knew if she didn't follow through tonight, she never would. She was going to have to try. It was time to step it up. Time to see if there really was more to all of this, to them.

But now, as she drove away from his place, the bag sitting beside her, mocking her, Claire just felt disappointed. Disappointed in herself and disappointed in Owen. She hadn't expected him to bring up breaking up. Especially not when, in fact, she'd been trying to figure out how to do the opposite, how to suggest they actually date.

And then he'd stated that he liked having her as a friend.

A friend.

Claire guessed she probably shouldn't be surprised. After all, they'd shared a bed numerous times now and he'd never even attempted to make a move. Sure, he'd kissed her a few times, but it had always seemed to be motivated by the presence of other employees. Not that she could blame him, that was what had motivated her to do so, too.

Clearly, the friend zone wasn't just a place women put men.

She was so glad she'd left her bag in the car when she'd arrived. That she hadn't been so presumptuous to take it out with her. She didn't even want to imagine the look on Owen's face if he'd seen it. The laughter that would've invariably followed. Nope, it was better that he didn't know. That he would never know.

Pulling into her spot at her place, Claire killed the engine, but didn't immediately get out. For all her nerves going in, she'd been excited and hopeful about the evening. Now, she was back to another night spent with her laptop. At least that would keep her distracted for a while. Finally undoing her seatbelt, Claire got out of the car, grabbing the bag. As she shut the door, her phone beeped, and she glanced down to see a new text message.

So, I was thinking we should get sushi tomorrow, in honour of you first fishing attempt.

Well, clearly he was happy being just friends. Letting out a long slow breath, Claire unlocked her phone, debating a reply. Somehow she was going to have to collect herself before tomorrow. In the end, she just sent: Sure. Sounds good.

Turning off her phone, she headed into the hotel. Maybe she'd skip the emails and just go straight to bed.

o-o-o

Summer at Jurassic World was one of the worst time periods for weather. Not that it got colder or anything like that. In fact, because Costa Rica was fairly close to the equator, the amount of daylight (about 12 hours) and the temperatures didn't change much over the course of the year. They didn't have seasons the same way that Owen was used to growing up. Instead, Costa Ricans generally divided the year into two, what they called high season and green season, also known as the dry season and the rainy or wet season. And the rainy season started around May and lasted through to early fall. Nublar was actually a little worse off, with the high season also being quite wet, just because of all the clouds that often felt like they were permanently stuck over the island.

While Owen had lived there for over three years now, the seasons had always had very little effect on his own life. Sure, some months he was more likely to be attempting his training sessions in the rain than others, but the raptors never seemed to care, and so Owen had just learned to suck it up. However, now that he was spending most of his free time with Claire, he had started to realize that the rainy season put her on edge. While the start of the rainy season really wasn't all that much different than the rest of the year, as the summer went on, the average amount of weekly rain seemed to steadily increase, and along with it, Claire's mood steadily worsen.

He'd felt a little stupid when he finally realized why. A large chunk of the visitors to Jurassic World came from North America and Europe. Both areas that generally had a break in the school calendar year over the summer. Just in time for all of them to flock to Jurassic World, only to get upset when it would rain their entire vacation. Of course, had any of these visitors ever looked at a forecast, they would've known this in advance. But, apparently few ever did, or they just assumed that their vacation would be the exception. All of this just boiled down to Claire being hammered by guests complaints and requests, generally about stuff she had no control over and no ability to fix.

Owen had made the mistake of laughing when Claire had been venting about the complaints she'd had to deal with one day. He only made that mistake once, when she had turned on him, eyes flashing, and then railed on him for ten minutes on why it mattered. How every negative review threatened to drop their guest satisfaction score out of the low 90s. He quickly realized that maintaining their high score was not just a point of pride for her, but something she seemed to pin a lot of her self-worth on.

Although, he wasn't sure the change in her mood could be tied only to the weather. Ever since the night when she'd dropped off the key, it felt like things had shifted. Owen wasn't really able to put a finger on exactly what it was, just that it felt like something had changed between them that night. It wasn't that things were worse, but it wasn't that things were exactly better, either. Claire was just as friendly as she'd always been, but it was like there was a different current in the air now. He wasn't sure how to deal with it, and had chosen to just pretend it didn't exist.

He'd only used the key twice in the past few weeks, both times because Claire had ended up stuck dealing with some last minute crisis and Owen had already been on his way over. Even having asked for it, it had felt odd the first time he'd let himself in. Like he was trespassing or something. He'd never been in her place alone before, and he'd initially stopped just inside the front door, a little unsure how to proceed. Part of him wanted to snoop, but he'd squashed that instinct down, knowing that nothing would probably end their friendship any faster than that. In the end, he'd done what he usually did when he was at her place—parked himself on the couch and turned on his Xbox. Somehow, ever since he'd initially brought it over, it had never left. In fact, he'd come over a few weeks earlier, to find that Claire had actually moved it, finding it a proper home in the TV stand, the cords now tidily hidden away, instead of hanging down as he had initially set it up. He took that as permission to keep it there.

Today was the third time he'd used his key to let himself in. Claire had texted him as he was on his way over that she was running behind. She said she wasn't sure how late she'd be, but that if he could wait, maybe they could grab dinner once she was free. He'd sent back a simple ok as he'd sat on his motorcycle in the hotel parking lot, debating if he should head up or find something else to do. Of course, at that exact moment the sky had let loose a loud crack of thunder and had made the decision for him, as he ran for the hotel entrance, just beating the downpour by seconds. He'd grabbed a beer and settled on the couch, turning on the TV and finding an old game to watch. It had been a long day, he didn't feel like he had the mental energy to attempt playing something, choosing to zone out instead.

When Claire finally arrived home, she'd entered in a whirlwind, dropping a stack of mail on the coffee table in front of him, as she went by. "Sorry I'm late. Have you thought about what you want to eat for dinner?" she asked, heading into her bedroom, the door shutting behind her. Owen could hear her closet doors open, the sound of clothes rustling.

"Anything's fine," he called back. He set his mostly empty beer on the coffee table, picking up the stack of mail, a thick cream envelope catching his eye. Pulling it from the stack, he saw that it was already open, Claire Dearing scrawled in fancy calligraphy across the front.

"I was thinking maybe we could order room service?" Claire suggested, coming out of the bedroom, catching him off guard. He looked up and saw that she'd changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, a sure sign that her day had been not just long, but draining.

"Sure, no problem," Owen agreed easily. He held up the envelope. "What's this?"

"Are you going through my mail now?" Claire asked, coming to sit beside him on the couch.

"If I'd gone through it, I wouldn't have to ask," Owen replied cheekily, grinning and playfully bumping his shoulder against hers.

"A save the date for Zara's wedding," Claire replied, pulling the envelope from his grasp. She pulled out the postcard like insert and handed it over.

Owen read the card, before looking up at her. "March, that's not a common month for a wedding."

"Yeah," Claire agreed. "But, it's one of the better months for weather here."

"Are they having it here?" Owen asked. "On the island?"

Claire nodded. "I thought they'd do something on the mainland, but Zara said it was Jurassic World that brought them together, so it felt fitting to have it here. I'm not sure where they've decided for their honeymoon yet."

"Nice, sounds fun," Owen nodded.

"That's because you don't have to go," Claire groaned, taking the insert back and sliding it back into the envelope. "I hate weddings."

"Well, this time I'll be your plus one," Owen shrugged. "Weddings are a blast. You've obviously never had the right company before."

"Right…" Claire said, a look crossing her face that Owen didn't understand. "Well, thankfully it's not for a while yet." Claire tossed the envelope back on the coffee table, before standing back up. "Oh, I meant to tell you," she said, heading back towards her bedroom.

"Tell me what?"

"I wasn't sure what to do with your laundry," Claire called back, disappearing through the doorway.

"My stuff's easy, it doesn't need any special care," Owen replied, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

"I know that," Claire's voice drifted out of the bedroom.

Curious, Owen followed after her. In her bedroom, he found her by her dresser, one of the bottom drawers pulled out. Inside he recognized clothes he'd left behind—a pair of pants, a few shirts, boxers and socks. "A drawer? Are you giving me a drawer?" Owen's eyes jumped between the open drawer and Claire and back again.

"Well… I didn't really want to just leave them on top. I thought this would be easier," Claire said, her gaze darting away from his. "If you don't want it…"

"No, I mean, thanks," Owen shifted awkwardly, before repeating himself. "Thanks."

"It's just a drawer," Claire said, pushing it shut with her foot. She turned towards him, an overly bright smile on her face. "So… dinner?"

Now... if you haven't yet, please go check out 50 Shades Of Grady by Elise because it's hilarious. The first chapter is up and I think it'll be 3 parts total. It's a "what if" that takes pre JW and is 100% clawen with a bit of an angst twist. What if there was a plant on Nublar that was a bit of an aphrodisiac...?

See you next week. :) And if you're American — hope you had a good July 4th. And Canadians, hope you had a fantastic Canada Day (bit belated, sorry).