Chapter Twenty-Seven
Owen slammed the door to the office, the heavy steel door falling into place echoing off the walls of the office. He whirled around, raked his hands through his hair and bent at the waist to look at his feet. Then, he fell against the door, let his head snap back onto the reinforced window, and he closed his eyes as he found his way to the floor.
Though the news on Delta was promising she'd be up and able to walk within a few days, Owen was enraged. It was as if something had snapped inside the containment unit when Marianne had bolted like lightning from his side, unwilling to hear reason and unwilling to comprehend action. She'd torn out of the paddock before he could even make it out of the building after her – and he and Barry had shared a look, Peter and Neela pausing their work to stare blankly at the field assistant's abrupt and less than graceful exit.
Now he was furious – furious at Marianne for being so quick to leave without so much as a word of explanation, furious at Jurassic World for putting him in such a situation, furious at himself for so easily being captivated by the events around him. It was all too much, this change of events, and he wasn't sure if he was focusing or thinking clearly enough to exist. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, trying to breathe slowly and stop the aching pounding in his chest. He was sure he was starving to death and dying of exhaustion the way weight pulled at his body, but he didn't rightly care. Owen Grady, for once in his life, wanted life to just slow down and let him catch up.
If a week ago you'd told him he'd find himself in the midst of groundbreaking research, a sick raptor, a completely mind-baffling situation with his boss, and the most astounding relationship on the planet with the most mind-boggling woman in the world; he'd probably have laughed in your face. After all, he was man not easily overtaken by his surroundings – he usually could navigate problems pretty good and keep his head screwed on straight. But, not this time. The events of the last four weeks and the last twenty-four hours had him so up in arms and lost that he couldn't even process what day it was, much less make career, relational, and emotional decisions. Always the cool and cavalier Owen Grady, he was lucky and cocky and could talk himself out of any issue or problem – but, not this time. Someone else was doing the talking, and Owen had no other choice but to sit and listen for a change.
The phone in his back pocket vibrated, pulling him out of his sulking pity-party. Owen fished it out of his back pocket, the screen lit up. Puffing out his cheeks, exasperated, he flipped it right side up and glanced at the notification. Something sank like a stone in his belly when he read the text on the Iphone screen – and his heart constricted as if it were in a steely vice. He bristled and a chill ran down his spine, rattling it as if it were a hollow tin can inside of him.
MARIANNE: Please, come. I need you.
He didn't even need to think about it. Almost instantly he got himself up off the floor. Never before had Owen been so hell-bent on being beside someone other than Marianne – she did something to him when he was with her, almost as if she had a spellbinding power over him. He wanted nothing but to see her smile and watch her sapphire eyes of fire sparkle in laughter and kindle flames of life. Owen Grady had never been smitten before, with any woman. They'd all just been opportunities of the moment, hasty decisions in a life full of decisions to make. But, with Marianne… never before had he wanted to keep someone safe and cared for, other than his family. Never before did he have the feeling he had in his gut now for another person.
It scared the living crap out of him.
He stretched his neck, grabbed the rifle off his desk which he'd brought in with him from Marianne's truck that morning, and slung it over his shoulder. He was halfway to the door when the phone vibrated again, this time stopping him in his tracks.
CLAIRE: We need to have a talk. Sooner rather than later. Wu –
Owen didn't even finish reading the text, or bother to open it before stuffing the phone into his pants pocket. He pulled open the door, closed it roughly behind him, and walked out to the middle of the catwalk. He looked down, the sun blaring heat on his back and the humidity instantly dotted sweat beneath his collar. He leaned against the railing and stared into the empty, silent paddock.
Then, pursing his lips, he let out a whistle. Instantly, the bushes rustled to the right, and out came Charlie and Echo, hissing and griping at one another. They stared up at him, and he whistled again, this time calling for Blue to surface. She did, parting the bushes from the running trail they had beat down in the paddock, and she took point in front of her sisters.
He could instantly tell they were on edge, as if waiting for him to try and take another one of them out of the paddock. He knew they were concerned about Delta and where she was – they'd never been separated before, and he knew it wasn't good for them. They were social animals, and each of them played a key role in their pack when it came to structure, communication, and role. He thought about Delta as he stared at them, their careful and intelligent eyes locked on his form above them, calculating his existence and presence, casting wondering gazes. They knocked him for a loop every time, these girls, and as he'd told Barry when they'd first gotten old enough to question him: he'd never been intimidated by a woman before and now he had four of them.
He let his wrists rest on the railing, hands hanging over the edge. He crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned forward, watching them with a smirk. He knew better than to back down and break the stare between the three of them – a sign of weakness, and he was by no means the weaker. Marianne had reminded him one day that he wasn't in control of these animals – that actually, they controlled him by forcing him to maintain routine, less he confuse them and slip up. Her words to Wu came rocketing back to him, crashing into his soul like a tidal wave with the entire force of the ocean behind it: they were failing to see how small people really were in light of these animals.
Blue took a step forward and snapped up at him, Owen straightened and gripping the railing now, his brow dropping into a hard, unforgiving glare. He narrowed his eyes at her and put a hand into the air, the other pointing two fingers at Echo and Charlie behind her. "Knock it off, Blue," she hissed at him and lowered on her haunches, talons on her toes twitching. "Don't sass me!"
Charlie let out a guttural growl, and he snapped his stare at her. His tone shifted, "Watch it. You're not helping!" His chest began to burn, and his leg muscles spiked with heat and trembling, but he didn't falter.
His phone beeped again, and this startled them. They broke their predator trance and Blue tipped her head at him, as if it were the prettiest sound she'd ever heard. He didn't break formation or eye contact, but Echo let out a yelping cry and the three of them turned and bolted back into the foliage, towards the wall closest to the containment unit, as if the challenge hadn't even happened. He let his hands drop and he headed towards the stairs.
He descended heavily, watching Briggs and Silas instruct the cleanup crew continually, which was still preoccupied with cleaning up brush and other fallen foliage. He rounded the truck, letting a finger run along the pinstripe, and watched as Silas shoved Briggs out of the way, the bigger Australian man glaring and tipping his hat back. Owen cracked a small smile at them and popped the latch on the door, grabbing the wheel of the truck and pulling himself up.
He reached for the ignition, flicked the keys, and leaned back in the seat, one hand draped over the wheel, the other on the gearshift when the sight of a messenger bag on the passenger's seat caught his attention. He reached for it, leaning across the seat and drug it to his side. Spreading it open, he scanned the contents with his eyes and found a tablet, her wallet, her knife holster, and the Beretta tossed inside. He'd forgotten she cared such weapons, and smiled crookedly at the objects, a devilish gleam clouding his eyes. He thought it was incredibly sexy.
In the far corner of the duffle, he saw a dark picture frame and he grabbed it. Turning it over, he found it was, surprisingly, a picture of himself with Blue. They were in the observation cage, Blue contained, him touching noses with her and touching his brow with her snout. Her eyes, however, were focused on what he assumed to be Marianne snapping the picture. Barry was in the background with what looked like Delta, but it wasn't the central focus of the picture.
Owen's heart began to pound inside his chest and heat overcame his body. His stomach began to twist and churn as if butterflies were bustling to get out and fly in a thousand different directions, and he found himself fumbling with the back of the frame until it came apart. He plucked the photo out of the frame and looked at the back of it – she'd scrawled in red ink the date, which was two weeks ago, and his name: Blue & Owen, 2015 – Jurassic World. His throat went dry and his mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton for a thousand years.
He let his hands drop to his knees, his head falling against the seatback, the truck rumbling as if to call him out on his feelings. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, and he found his brain picturing Marianne the first day he'd seen her – in the same red dress a she was wearing today, sandals – her hair pulled into a high, bouncing, furiously curly pony-tail. She'd been fresh off the mainland, and he hadn't realized how beautiful she'd been, when suddenly the picture in his mind abruptly switched and he saw her standing in the rain, at the back of the pickup truck when they'd been unloading Delta.
She'd been dishevelled and undone – her hair stringy and wet, curls heavy and forgotten in the rain, her body drenched in mud, blood and water. Her skin, now accustomed to the sun and dark, had been speckled with water – her eyes a light and icy blue that had caught him off guard then and now rendered him powerless in his memories. He opened his eyes, finding himself staring at the ceiling of the truck, and he looked down to the picture again – he hadn't realized how much Marianne had been a part of these animal's lives these past four weeks, or how much of a friend she'd become to him either. She'd melded right into the group as if she'd been there since day one.
What's happening to you? He asked himself as he began putting the frame back together. He made a mental note to make sure and get a picture of her for himself – he didn't ever want to have to rely on his memories, which could be so twisted and manipulated, to see her face. He pushed the duffle away from him and pressed the brake, shifted into drive, and left the paddock, opening the window and being blasted by hot, jungle air.
He wasn't sure what was happening to him, but Owen Grady knew one thing.
He was glad it was.
. . .
With the help of Alan and security, they'd been able to get Marianne back inside the Samsung building, drawing the attention of swarms of guests and photographers – information having been leaked that the infamous Alan Grant of Jurassic Park was on the island. It had taken extra guards to keep the roaring crowds at bay enough for them to ride the escalator back to Wu's office off the labs.
Marianne felt as if she'd been placed under a microscope, the way Nick was staring at her. He had a mixture of confusion, giddiness, and nostalgia on his face, while the same familiar lust she'd experienced in collage bombarded her from his eyes. Oddly enough, she felt noting in her gut towards him – nothing but regret and shame for her time spent with him. She'd been so young and so stupid to be with him, so foolish and naive. The car levelled off, and the four of them exited - meeting up with Claire, who'd taken the other elevator alone. Still dressed in jeans and the same stained tank – top, she glowered at Marianne as if she were the devil reincarnated.
Marianne ignored her, eyes blankly staring ahead. She followed Claire only out of necessity and instinct, her body a mixture of numbness and confusion, as well as burning anger. Alan was here at Jurassic World after giving her a hard lecture and thousands of promises that he'd never come back. How easily he'd betrayed his own claims, and it infuriated her that he'd come without telling her. His hand was firmly wrapped around her arm protectively as if she were a child threatening to bolt – his eyes still the same: sparked with an eternal curiosity, but every watchful and fearful of the present state. She could feel the tenseness of his body even from her place beside them.
The door to Wu's office opened, and Marianne spotted Lillian rise from her place on the couch across the room. Wu, she noted, was seated at his desk playing once again with the brain teaser in his hands. He, wearing a black turtle neck and ashen colored pants was the epitome of the rich and well-off, of a man who knew his place among science and the world of celebrity. He'd changed history and science, and he knew it. Complete with slicked back hair only slightly greying, Marianne pictured him twenty years ago – fresh out of college and brimming with potential, innocence, and curiosity. Now instead was hardened by experience and time, poisoned with delusions of control and grandeur.
She could feel the atmosphere in the room switch when he looked up to Alan, his eyes narrow, but a hint of a smirk resting on his lips dangerously. Alan's grip on her arm instantly tightened and she felt her muscle contract under the pressure. She closed her eyes and let out a short breath, Ian stopping beside her and glancing around the room. Wu's eyes shifted to Ian, and Ian tipped his chin up at Wu as if to overcome him. Nick came up beside Ian, gave her another look and then focused his attention back to Wu, whose eyes had settled on her.
Alan released her arm and she swallowed thickly, the lump in her throat all but disappearing. She took in the man's scowl, and she knew in that moment that she'd gotten to him – that she had tested his resolve and had broken it. He'd been shaken by what'd she'd said, plagued by memories of Jurassic Park and the failings of John Hammond. She knew, in the moment they locked eyes, that he knew he didn't have the control he wished he did – and that he also knew that she'd been right, but was unwilling to admit it.
He set the brain teaser down delicately back in the corner of his desk, and then slowly retracted his hand as if he'd just placed plutonium in a bomb. His eyes lingered on the toy and drew back to her, where he gave a sly smile as if he'd just cornered his prey. Steeping his fingers, he pushed his chair back delicately and rose swiftly, almost airlessly. "Ah, Miss Randal." His tone was dripping with venom, a sticky sweetness she knew could only be forced for the sake of his daughter and her own counterparts in the room, "We meet again. In light of the circumstances, I hope you are doing well."
She furrowed her brow at him, "I'd say I'm about the same as when I left, thanks for asking."
He chuckled, eyes darting to Alan and scanning him before coming back to her. He rounded the desk coolly until he came to the other side, standing directly before her and leaning back into it, crossing his arms over his chest. His left brow quirked, "I'm sorry to hear that," he looked to Ian now, "though, I'd say it appears you've had some time to process our discussion."
The corner of her mouth lifted into a half smirk. So he was scared – or concerned about Ian and Alan's presence on his island and amidst his research. The thought made her wonder how a younger Henry Wu had appreciated the presence of such experience and wisdom among his research and developments twenty years ago in Jurassic Park. "A lot has happened since our discussion, Dr. Wu."
He pursed his lips. "I see." He then pushed himself off the desk and motioned for the door to his office to be closed, now guarded by two security guards. Claire moved to the sidelines, midway between the couch where Lillian sat and their group. Marianne reached up to scratch her temple, suddenly feeling exposed and very awkward standing in a dress and boots tin Wu's office. No one seemed to notice, except Claire, who was glaring at her as if she could murder her with such stares. Marianne looked to her and then back to Wu, who had his hands cupped behind his back and was standing before Alan – still shorter than him, even in age.
"Dr. Grant." His tone was stoic, but seasoned with a light and disgusting sweetness that Marianne could hardly digest. Ian gave her a look and she gave him a weak smile, and he reached up to rub her shoulder as if to tell her she was doing fine under such scrutiny. When Wu didn't say anything else, Alan quipped.
"Dr. Wu."
Henry chuckled and looked away from Alan, stepping away gracefully and turning to come to Marianne. She swallowed again, her palms getting warm and slick with sweat. She felt cornered by a snake that was waiting to strike her and knock her resolve around. "Of all places I imagined seeing you again, Dr. Grant, here wasn't one of them. Let me be the first to say I am honoured and delighted to have you with us. Welcome." He spread out his arms as if receiving their party, "Seems it's a small world, after all."
Marianne looked up to Alan, to see he was peering at Wu with narrowed eyes, eyes that were cautious and foreboding. She'd seen that look before in his eyes, one that was warning and dangerous and reminded her that he was angry beyond reason. She could almost see the smoke billowing out of his ears. "Appears that way." Was all he said.
Wu looked to Ian, "And Dr. Malcolm – glad to see you looking so well. I heard you got married to the astute Dr. Sarah Harding. Doing well for yourself, I imagine?"
Ian shrugged, "Best as could be expected I guess. No Olympic Gold medallist or anything." He referred to the injury of his knee, which he'd sustained while being the victim of an accident with a T-Rex in Jurassic Park. Henry's face somewhat curdled at this, but he didn't seem to fazed. "But you," he wagged a finger at Henry, slipped a hand into his pocket, and stepped forward, "You, Dr. Wu, seem to have foregone the mistake of Hammond's park and created one of your own. Seems the blatant disregard for chaos and evolution still exists after all that's happened. Still quite staggering." He rubbed his jaw.
"A lot has changed since 1993, Dr. Malcolm," Wu interjected, "I can assure you we are doubling our efforts for security. We won't make the same mistakes as John did." He spoke as if it were a ongoing conversation that had been dropped for twenty years, only now to resurface. The biting in his tone suggested he hadn't liked Malcolm the first time around, and he was less than impressed now.
"No, no – you're making all news one's it seems, with new staff and new technology."
Wu's brows shot up and he dared a look at Marianne, who smugly smiled at him. She cocked her right hip slightly, wrapped her arms around her chest and stared into him as if a hole would suddenly appear in his face. When it didn't happen, he broke their look and turned back to Malcolm.
He rolled his eyes, now broken from his calm aura. Marianne saw a flash of anger and regret cross his eyes, only to be replaced with his superiority and control of the situation. He was the mastermind of this operation – and they were mice caught in his trap, his grand scheme. "You always were a bit overdramatic, Dr. Malcolm," he crossed his arms over his chest and then gestured to Marianne, "I can see where you get your optimism, Miss Randal. " it was a sarcastic statement, and his brow wrinkled as if to figure her out – as if she were some puzzle that he was hell-bent on completing, some personal project to bring around. She felt like he was trying to trap her in her own words.
"I learned from the best," she deadpanned. His brows rose at this and he shot a look to Nick, who'd crossed his arms over his chest and squared his shoulders by this point, obviously in tune with the overall tension in the room. Claire and Lillian were silent serpents in the corner, taking in the conversation as if it were the moon-landing all over again. "Seems we have an overall theme here, Dr. Wu."
"Or an overall theory," he interjected bitingly, "You're speculations are purely based off of past events and your own personal theories, miss. You have no substantial evidence that this park could, or would, for any reason, fail. Your theories are entirely based off of personal prejudice and post traumatic stress – anxiety. Now," he scanned all three of them, "as it is clear that you are here for a lot more than just documentation and research," he looked over to Claire, "I will be gracious to give you the benefit of the doubt and suggest you are here just to reunite an old memory and exchange old war stories." He smiled at them and chuckled tauntingly, "You are my esteemed guests," he approached Alan from behind the desk, "But, let me assure you of one thing, Dr. Grant. If you so much as come within three hundred yards of any of my research, I will personally see to it that you will never work in your field again – do you understand?"
Marianne's heart pummelled her ribs to the point where she felt as if it would fly out of her chest and beat on the floor. She stepped for Wu, who was now in Alan's face, in a steely-eyed lock with her mentor and greatest friend. "How dare you –" She was stopped when Nick came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her middle and held her back. She stopped, put her hands on his arm and glared up at him. He looked down, gave her a sheepish half smile, and then looked back to Wu and Grant, saying nothing. Heat flared up her neck.
"Don't worry, Henry. I'm not here to steal your research. I'm here to get my assistant and get her away from you." He leaned forward into Wu's face and placed his hat on top of his head, not before sliding his aviators down onto his face. "Because we all know how this is going to end, really. You're just not at the point of accepting it."
Ian piped up, "I said it before and I'll say it again, Wu. Life will find a way," his tone was quipping, and Marianne got the sudden feeling that history was reliving here in the room, and it was suffocating her unknowing brain.
"Or it will die trying." Alan challenged. Then, he looked to Marianne and shot Nick a warning glare. Nick, upon reading the tone of his eyes, released Marianne and she brushed off her arms as if she were being hugged by something equally disgusting. Alan turned on his heel from Wu, jerked his head to the door, and waited for Marianne to lead them from the room.
They brushed past the security guards, the door closing into place quietly, sealing off whatever had transpired just then, and what had transpired twenty years ago. It felt like a chapter had closed for the two men behind her, and Marianne felt her skin bristle with goosebumps. She led them towards the elevator, and once satisfied that Wu wasn't coming after them, pressed the down arrow.
"He's still a cocky little prick," Alan mumbled.
"And he's still as unintelligent and naive as he was twenty years ago," Malcolm snorted, "Geneticists. Can't live with them, can't live without them." He loosened his shoulders and winked at Marianne, chuckling at his own joke. She had pushed herself to the farthest corner of the elevator trying to avoid Nick's eyes and the sudden redness that had overcome his face. He still hadn't spoken to her. "Right, kid?" Malcolm pressed.
She nodded, half registering his statement. "Yeah, sure." Her statement was lost, however, when the car levelled off and dang, the doors parting to the swelled crowds in the Innovation Center. Children were running everywhere, and Marianne checked the digital clock over the doors, high in the cathedral ceilings. It was already twenty minutes until two. Her eyes drifted back to the doors, scanning for Owen, hoping he'd received the text she'd sent just before entering the elevators going to Wu's office. Marianne scanned the crowds of unfamiliar faces hoping to find him, and she'd look across the sea of people countless times before she found her eyes back on the door, where a strong and thick frame was pulling it open and stepping inside.
Her heart soared, her stomach flopped, and she felt a burst of speed kick into her chest. She instantly was gone from Alan and Ian's side, shoving past a woman and a baby only to bounce off of them and into a burly Indian man with a long braid and beads. He shoved her off of him and she stumbled over her own feet deeper into the crowd. "Owen!" she cried above their pointless chatter, waving a hand high in the air. She was desperate for his arms around her, for his strength and his certainty – his bourbony voice and strange smell of peppermint. "Owen – over here– ack!" A child ran past her and knocked her into one of the supporting beams, which she stood still against and pressed her back into, watching Owen's unnoticing frame begin going the opposite direction.
Then, she did the only thing she knew to do: she pursed her lips together and whistled loud – the same whistle that Owen called the raptors with. This stilled the people around her and quieted the room as her whistle struck the air like a bell, and she looked around nervously. Owen had stopped, taken a step back and was scanning furiously until she plunged from the support beam and hustled through the crowds until she came to him. Upon seeing her materialize in front of him, he gave her a devious smile and quirked a brow at her. "Miss me, huh?"
She grabbed his hand, "I have someone for you to meet."
Life resumed around them as tourists and guests went back to mulling around the Center. They weaved in and out of people, Marianne's resolve coming back to her with Owen right behind her to support her. The thought of what Nick would do when he found out they were together stuck in her brain only a moment before she found herself back before Alan, Ian, and Nick again, this time Owen coming to stop beside her. She released his hand and moved to Alan, who's gaze was cemented hard on Owen. Unfazed, Owen stood before them, rifle draped casually across his shoulders as if it were a normal accessory.
She saw Alan bristle, but calmed her own fluttering heart and told herself he'd be fine. "Alan," she began, putting a hand on his arm, her eyes landing on Owen. She smiled softly at him and continued, "This is Owen Grady – you talked to him on the phone." She gestured to the raptor trainer with a hand and then looked back to Alan. "He, uh, well – he's on the same page as we are when it comes to Wu."
Alan said nothing for a moment and then finally stepped forward, extending a hand – his expression still dauntingly cold and calculating. It sent a shiver down Marianne's spine as she watched their hand connect and shake firmly. Her eyes shifted up to Owen, who had a hard and set look on his face – his jaw was set and his eyes were alive with purpose and strength, and he looked seasoned and experienced. She couldn't believe he was ten years her senior, because he looked younger in light of Alan.
"At least someone other than Marianne has their head screwed on in this place." Alan released Owen's hand. "Alan Grant."
"Owen Grady," Owen introduced himself strongly, his name still sounding heroic. He sounded serious and put together – not the cocky and immature Owen she knew so well. "Nice to put a name to a face, sir.. Marianne's talked about you nonstop."
"I have no doubt," Alan gave her a hardly noticeable smile, "Seems in the rush of getting here she forgot how much she truly missed me." She rolled her eyes at him, and he looked up and around the Center. Marianne wondered how much different it was than the Jurassic Park visitor's center. "Well. Seems pretty…state of the art, except for the same old naivety and stupidity in the lab. " he quipped, then levelled a stare at Marianne, who made her way over to Owen. "So much for a place of new beginnings and a promising career," he raised his brows at Marianne, "Seems you kinda blew that one on your own, kid."
She shrugged, "I have that effect on people sometimes." She smiled at Owen, who gave her a soft upturn of his lips – not before shifting his attention to Nick, who had been watching their interaction like a hawk. She nervously released a breath and walked over to Malcolm, who too had sensed Nick's discomfort, given the look on his face. "Owen, this is Ian Malcolm – he's a friend of Alan's from –"
"From the time when you were just beginning to understand what dinosaurs were," Ian joked, extending a hand and stepping to close the gap. He still had the same half smile that she was sure would've rendered women to their knees twenty years ago – but now, they brought wrinkles around his eyes, which in her opinion only added to the entire package which was Ian Malcolm. "Nice to meet you, kid. So Grant here tells me you work with all the teeth? At least, the smart and problem-solving kind."
Owen cracked a smile, "I guess that's one way of putting it."
Alan levelled the next questions, "How long have you been working with the raptors?"
"Since they were born," Owen crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight on his feet, as if he were talking to long-time buddies and not strangers who were here to challenge his very existence. Marianne stood by his side, arms behind her back, staring at the three most important men in her world. Malcolm she'd only met once before, but he'd instantly meant something to her as he'd come to her defence against Wu just moments before – and she knew there was a lot more to him than the leather and chaos of 1993 that Alan had recalled to her. Alan would always be important to her, just because he was more of a father to her than anything while being her mentor and friend.
And Owen, well. He was Owen, and he was glorious.
"Interesting. Have they imprinted you or did they completely deviate from speculation?" Alan too crossed his arms over his chest and braced his feet on the floor, as if the pointing and slowing crowds were going to sweep them away. Marianne watched a pair of kids look down at a phone and then point at him, then quickly turn when they spotted her staring.
"They imprinted, yeah," Owen nodded, then shrugged and scuffed his boot on the floor. "I took over the role of their alpha since they left the lab. They know who I am and respond to verbal commands – to the best of their ability."
Alan's brows shot up. "Really."
Owen shrugged as if it were old news, "They respond to commands and certain cues, yes. It's taken four years, but they're coming around I think." He looked to Marianne and she smiled softly at him, "They go so far as to hesitate when I'm on the ground with them."
Ian instantly joined the conversation. "So you mean to say they listen to you when you talk to them and they don't go in for the kill when you're face-to-face?" His brow quirked and he gestured wildly with his hands, now a look of expectation on his face. She suppressed a giggle when she looked at Owen, who's brows rose in surprise by the sudden bombardment of questions.
He blinked twice, "Well, yeah , but –"
Malcolm swore under his breath, "Chaos. Complete chaos," he left and stepped away from their group, putting his hands on his knees and bending at the waist. Marianne looked to him and then found Nick, who was still planted where he'd exited the elevators, watching their conversation with calm and cool eyes. Upon seeing her watching him, he moved forward and extended a hand as if her stare had been a prompt instead of a casual observation. Her stomach soured and she closed her eyes, waiting, exhaling quietly.
"And you are?" Owen, sensing her unease, lifted a brow to Nick curiously.
"Nick Van Owen," Owen clasped hands with the man and they shook before he removed his own. Nick smiled at Marianne and nodded to her, then gave a look to Owen and he shrugged a shoulder. Alan, in all of this bristled and held his breath. Marianne counted the moments before he spoke again, remembering how he always hesitated between statements – and how much she hated it. "I'm Marianne's ex-fiancee."
Owen whipped a look to her, and she opened her eyes – finding his eyes entirely aflame with questions and shock, as well as hurt and confusion. Alan sighed and rubbed his forehead with a hand, and Malcolm had rejoined them right at the perfect moment, his brows rising quickly in surprise. Marianne let her head fall back and she groaned, only to lower it and cover her eyes with her hands. She sighed and turned to face Owen.
"Your what?"
"I wasn't supposed to say that, was I?" Nick looked between them awkwardly. Marianne shot him an angry and disgusted look.
"You're not supposed to be here." Her voice was icy with venom and he nodded slowly, realization smacking him in the face. She shook her head and sighed again; looking away from Owen, only to have her gaze fall on a young couple – not much younger than them – wrapped in each others arms and sharing a light and giggly kiss. She stared at them enviously, only to draw her attention back to Owen's eyes. "It's a long story, Owen, and I was going to talk to you about it –"
"Was?" He interjected, as if the three other men weren't even in the equation, "You are going to talk to me about it, and you're going to do it right now."