Based on the books by James Gurney and on the Mini series and TV-series Copyright Halmark Entertainment and Bridge Entertainment Group BV
Since I am using characters that were not in the mini-series, mine will look like the ones in the tv-series. So David is the dark curly one and Karl the blue-eyed blonde.
Every human has their very own Saurian Life Mate. Except for Frank Scott. But when he finally finds one, nobody, including he himself, is very pleased about it.
Dinotopia: the second season
By Owl-Who-Ate-Too-Many-Mice
Part one
Snapper: Act 1, Scene 1
The trading post somewhere along the road to Waterfall City lay neglected no longer. It was a halfway point, not too far from anywhere, and easy to reach for those who wanted to meet up with a friend, drink a good glass before moving on or trading oranges from one place for apples from another. Once it had been a rag-tag building with no discerning qualities, a bit of a dump, really. Maintained by one who's heart had no longer been in it. But when it had changed hands, it had changed colour. The place and the surrounding hamlet looked like something straight out of a picture book, thick old stone walls, timber framed upper levels, huge chimneys sticking out in odd ends from under the slate roofs. The Sun-stone in it's small tower on top, glittering it's magical light protectively over the small community.
Nowadays one could find things here propriety might frown upon. Although in these lands Propriety either shook her head smiling in a motherly fashion and looked the other way, or mildly asked the miscreant to move over and let her join in. Such were the ways of the Dinotopians. Accept, encompass and enjoy. Look mildly upon those whom you do not understand and try to learn something. Try to help. And if all kindness fails, ignore. Do not punish what you not agree with but overlook it, and encourage that which the ancestors saw as good. Since people like to be liked, they will eventually behave in a fashion that is likable.
This gave one family of newcomers the freedom to make the place their home. To try and build something. To welcome all. And if 'all' hadn't included the 'Outsiders', this thought would have been –very- Dinotopian.
The Outsiders were those people, who did not enjoy the constraints of the society they had grown up in. Out of fear or a sense of superiority, they thought they were a better kind of creature than the dinosaurs whom had welcomed their marooned ancestors many generations ago. Forming a clan of their own, where only the rules of the strongest counted, they were the counterbalance where the dregs of society gathered.
Or so the good burgers of the isle taught their children. Conveniently forgetting that the existence of the Outsiders in their paradise was at least a token that not all was well or simple. And overlooking the fact the reasons for the Outsiders to choose a different life might be diverse.
Outsiders dressed in dark and earthy tones that would camouflage them during the hunt. Only their uncrowned Queen, Torres LeSage, dared to wear red outside in the woods. Blood red for a hot-blooded lady with, like all Outsiders, an immense dislike of the Saurians that went as far as hunting even the Tyrannosaurs for sport. Or dinner. In their way, they could be brave for one mistake during those hunts and they would –become- dinner.
A group of about seven of these outsiders had gathered inside the bar, drinking, laughing, making fun of the locals and generally having a good time. They were a dark spot in the corner, whereas the other patrons dressed in bright colours, tailored to the tastes and styles of the times their ancestors had landed in Dinotopia, or simply in a way they found practical. That was of course as far as the human clientele went. The Saurians came in all the seizes that could come through the old saloon style swing doors, scales glittering in a rainbow of colours, claws tapping the wooden floorboards in homely pitter-patter.
Old stone walls decorated the bar, brightened with something of a 'shipwreck motif' consisting of a couple of brightly painted figureheads next to the entrance and ships lanterns dangling from the ceiling. The walls were lined with shelves filled with mugs and glasses in all kinds of styles. Behind the bar a large variety of jugs and boxes could be found, containing a wide variety of leaves and herbs for tea's, the rot-gut people here believed was worthy of the name 'whiskey' and many, many kinds of fruit juice. Above it hung an old ships bell, waiting for someone to grab the rope and stand a round.
Today the bar also held one of the two sons of the man who owned the place, a young blonde who went by the name of Karl Scott, and who was currently busying himself with scrubbing a very clean glass even cleaner, just so he would not die of sheer boredom.
Even the arrival of the Outsider's second in command, a tall man with a long face and a calm, calculated demeanour, seemed utterly mundane today. The man went by the name of Quint. He could make himself almost invisible and looked over if he so desired, especially when he was guarding the back of LeSage. He carried a jute bag over his shoulder and seemed in rather good spirits, which usually meant trouble.
Quint threw the bag down on the table none too gently, and it yelped and growled a bit. He laughed, harsh and a forced, while plunking down besides his mates, waving at Karl. Quint swept his long black hair back over his shoulder, adjusted his headband and gave the curly redhead beside him a one armed embrace. He said something and the whole table of Outsiders roared. With his long coat, the knives at his belt and his overall ruddiness, he looked like the ultimate 'cool' to Karl.
Not that the young man aspired to –be- anything even remotely –like- any of the Outsiders, lets face it, who really wanted to be a hygienically challenged murdering bastard with serious dental problems? But the Outsiders possessed a freedom and a lust for life not many Dinotopians even realised was possible. At least they were not stuck behind a bar polishing glasses and serving herbal tea!
Karl was barely twenty years old and he certainly would not have chosen to celebrate that special birthday in his fathers 'saloon'. On his fathers yacht, perhaps. Or his fathers penthouse back home in New York. But those places he most likely would never see again. Dad's business partners probably would have sold both by now.
In appearance he had taken more after his mother than his father. He had inherited her fair hair, blue eyes, round cheeks and heavy set eyebrows. But in character he did favour his dad. Reckless, charming, and somewhat manipulative at times.
Karl threw down the cleaning rag an sauntered towards the cheering, laughing band of Merry Men.
"So gentlemen? What will it be? A Cytrus surprise? Dandelion tea with –just- a hint of lemon?"
Quint looked up at him and drawled "How about something that goes with this?" holding up and slightly shaking a small silver flask.
"Just some glasses then. Right."
Quint chuckled and gave him a nod.
"No ice, anybody?"
But the Outsiders ignored Karl and congratulated Quint again, pounding his back, pointing at and prodding the lumpy bag he had brought them.
Karl's father, Frank Scott, had been desperate to get of the island and back to his –life-, when chance had brought him in contact with Giorgio, an ex-diving instructor cum smuggler who had ended up on Dinotopia twenty-two years previous. Both being needed elsewhere and knowing what Frank was going through, made him offer Frank the trading post. Not to mention that Frank and Karl had saved him and his wife from a hungry Tyrannosaurus Rex!
In accepting Giorgio's gift, Frank had been able to gain a badly needed challenge, a living, a house for himself and Karl and a place to come back to for his other son, David, who's duties made him dwell in Canyon City most of the time.
David, adapting much quicker to the Dinotopian way than his half-brother and father, had become a Skybax Rider, one of the flying guardians who rode Pterosaurs, huge bony flying dinosaurs with a wingspan of about thirty feet and enormous beaks. They connected with their riders on an almost spiritual level David could not even explain to himself. But he did know that the Pterosaurs allowed the humans to fly with them only, man would never be able to master them. Why the Pterosaurs where like this? Perhaps they picked up on the love for the flight of their riders, but more likely they felt just as responsible for the lands they surveyed and protected.
David and Karl had been born from different mothers with only a few months in between. David had always been the more introvert one, but here on Dinotopia he had quickly come into his own, a Skybax officer on the rise. Although for a good cause he could be just as manipulative as his brother, he'd rather fought fair if given a chance. David favoured the dark colouring of his father's, but his mother had been a finer boned creature with eyes the pale blue colour of the sky at dawn. David had inherited those and his pointed face and slim figure set him apart from the others.
David and Karl had not really known each other very well and there had been a strong undercurrent of sibling rivalry in their relation ship. First an foremost for the approval of their father, and later on for the favour of the fair Marian, the daughter of Matriarch Rosemary of the Earth Farm and Mayor Waldo of Waterfall City. But David had done some growing up lately, growing more secure within himself and in his duties every time he challenged the currents in the wind. Leaving his brother behind, although neither had realised this yet.
David had bonded with his 'bird' Freefall, an albino Pterosaur, who until he and David became Life Mates had been an outcast among his own. Just as David's initial fear of heights had set him apart from all other in the Skybax core. But they completed each other, found courage within the other and were perhaps more like brothers than David and Karl could ever be.
Karl had been told to adopt and bond with the tiny Chasmosaurus he had seen born and had named Twenty-six, a responsibility he had not asked for and only grudgingly learned to accept. The size of a small dog now, Twenty-six would dwarf Karl when grown. She had a larch neck frill that made her look like a miniature Elizabethan lady-in–waiting, albeit a plump one, and the two horns above her brow and the third on the bridge of her nose were quickly growing, like the first teeth of a human child. What they would benefit from each other the future still held secret for them, although Twenty-six –was- picking up an at times rather ironic sense of humour.
But perhaps that had more to do with her adoptive 'grandfather', who even in the direst of circumstances seemed to have some wise-crack up his sleeve, had a rather short fuse, especially if something or someone threatened the small circle of his family, and busied himself with getting the best deals in town to keep the trading post running. Which bored him almost out off his scull at times, for the Dinotopians had no competitive bone in their collective body, priced anything the same anywhere and merrily congratulated him on finding a better supplier if he tried to get a better price by threatening to take his business elsewhere. Frank Scott had been a successful businessman in all kinds of ventures and had thrived on challenges back in what he stubbornly kept calling the 'real world'. Neither of his boys had inherited his green eyes or his business instinct, even if Karl was something of an opportunist.
His boys were all he had, perhaps all he ever truly had needed and Frank started to realise, although he would never amid it, that he had missed out on their lives terribly. And just as this understanding crept up to him, the boys were turning into men and he had to let them go. After the plane crash that had landed them in Dinotopian waters, Frank had thought them dead for moths, nearly going mad in the dark cave system he had found himself in instead of reaching the shore. Endless months, while starvation wrecked his body and the lonely darkness closed in on his mind. He still found himself plagued with nightmares, but only Karl, living under the same roof and sleeping in the room next to his, knew of the more vocal ones.
"No ice," Karl repeated to him self.
Behind him, the sudden yelp of one of the outsiders made him swiftly turn on the heel. He heard cloth tearing, all of the Outsiders cursing and swearing and jumping up from their seats. Karl saw one of the men clutching a hand to his chest, bleeding badly, and the rest of them dashing for the floor and trying to catch –something- that raced under one table to another, back again, was jumped at by the Outsiders, and, judging from the yelping and cussing, had apparently bit another one.
Glasses and mugs went flying, other guests where roughly pushed aside and everyone was screaming. Whatever 'it' was disappeared into the kitchen, with the huddle of men at its heels.
Karl stood dumbfounded, until he heard Lorenzo, the kook, give a shout. Coming to his senses he followed the chaos, but never made it as far as the kitchen.
A small creature slipped between his legs and made him stumble. The creature made a b-line for their private rooms at the side where his father was doing the accounts. It was apparently shying away from the harsh light of the tropical midday sun outside.
Flat on the floor, Karl's mind was racing. Bag- moving- Quint laughing- probably a long time in the dark bag-
"Ouch!" Karl cried out, while he was trying to get up but that was not really working while three of the Outsiders were trying to leave the kitchen as one and stumbling over him and on top of him again.
Quint himself however, pushed, kicked and bullied the lot of them aside, made the wrong conclusion and ran out of the swing-doors, looked around and shouted his disappointment.
"What the devil is going on here!" another voice bellowed over the melee.
Finding his feet, Karl looked up at his father, who had some blood splattered over his jacket, was sucking a small wound on is right hand and held in his other, as far away from his person as possible, a dangling, snapping and screeching mini dino in a firm grip by the tail.
The claws on the hind legs of the creature, small though it was, could still do his father some serious damage. Quickly Karl took of his jacket and wrapped the struggling little creature in it, so his father could let go of the tail.
"Are you alright dad?"
"Yeah. I'm fine!" Frank answered, biting of his words and pale with anger.
"But, the blood- it's all over you."
Frank looked down at his ruined shirt and shook his head.
"Not mine, son." He gave a nod at the struggling bundle in Karl's arms. "His."
Quint in the mean time, had returned upon hearing Frank storm out his office, and smiled broadly with a calculating look in the eyes.
"Yes, well, it was wounded a bit when I caught it. Should not have kept it in a cloth bag of course. You can give it back to me now, I will repay you for the shirt- and the jacket." He made a wave at his friends behind him, who looked at each other sheepishly for a moment and then quickly started to clean up the mess of fallen upturned tables, chairs and broken glasses.
"Sorry about the mess." Quint held out his hands for the bundle, but Karl, on instinct, stepped back. Frank narrowed his eyes at the Outsider Lieutenant and smiled back in the same insincere toothy way. He put a hand on his son's shoulder, pulled him back a bit more, and stepped in front of him.
"Oh- I'm –sure- about that. And what made you think bringing a wounded T-Rex cub in here was a good idea in the –first- place?"
Karl nearly dropped the meeping and growling bundle at that, Lorenzo, who had been peaking around the kitchen door jumped back again and some of the other guest who had taken an interest in the goings on, almost involuntarily stepped away- or simply fled.
A T-Rex. Wounded, only an infant and still the stuff of nightmares. The Dinotopians wanted it no-where near themselves.
Quint put up his hands. "Oh- I just came for a drink with my friends here- I mean no trouble. You do not want no trouble here, now do you Frank? Give me back the cub. Now. If you please."
The other outsiders came to stand behind Quint, one nonchalantly cleaning his nails with a knife as long as his forearm, others flexing their fists. Frank crossed his arms in front of him, smiling even more broadly and keeping himself squarely placed between his wily patrons and the cub.
"What do you need it for Quint. The squirt is too small for you appetite."
A collective gasp went through the lookers on, human and saurian alike. Human meat-eaters were also a subject the civilised burgers did not like to dwell upon. Outsiders- cannibals!
Some of the men even came closer again, despite the threat radiating of the Outsiders. A life was at stake. The life of a child, no less. From the corner of his eyes, Quint saw the movement. He also noticed his men becoming a bit nervous.
"Ah- Frank. Tell me, friend, you still making T-Rex omelettes with explosives? Or couldn't you stomach take them? "
The bundle behind Frank wailed pitifully. It sounded like a sob, and it sounded hurt.
Frank Scott thoroughly detested and even –hated- the big lizards that had on more than one occasion nearly had both him –and- his sons for dinner. Quint and his people took the Rexes for desert. There was some kind of justice in that- or at least that was what he had always insisted upon. But the creature in Karl's arms was not a full grown murdering monster. It was an infant. A little one. Something in need of protection and by trice damned fate brought upon –his- path. The desperate cries it gave struck a chord- a feeling he could name nor deny. Besides, no one could hint at him that he had become a coward and get away with it, now could they? So in spite of himself he heard himself say in a low voice: "Is that what you're going to do with it? Making sure you gone get some easy eggs?"
"If you tie it to a tree, the mother is a simple catch."
Again a collective gasp. Quint dropped his smile. "Give me the cub. It is –mine-!"
Frank made himself tall and put his ands in his sides, not moving an inch. "I thought you Outsiders liked challenges, " he mocked, in that same, almost dangerous voice.
Quint made one step closer, coming toe to toe with the older man.
"And what, " he hissed, "is that supposed to mean?"
"I thought you guys liked the challenge, thrill of the hunt and that kind of stuff."
"So?"
Frank shrugged. "Well, your plan just seems a bit, easy."
Quint narrowed his eyes. "Are you calling me a coward, Scott?"
Frank had seen his other guest come forward and the nervousness of the Outsiders. The situation was getting rather grim, and perhaps the T-Rex was worth none of it. If there would be a fight, a serious one at that, the kind-hearted citizens of Waterfall City were no match whatsoever for the roughened Outsiders. Besides, these people would not even realise they had been in a fight until they were beaten to the ground cradling their bloodied noses.
So he kept smiling.
"What I'm saying is that there must be a more, -original- way to get some fun out off your little catch."
Quint, recognising a way out of the upcoming brawl, stepped back, grinning again.
"What did you have in mind. How –much-." And he made the slow movement of rubbing his fingers that even here meant money.
Frank followed the Outsider into the bar, shaking his head and rubbing his chin as if thinking hard.
"Nah- that would be no challenge either." He waved at the poker table.
"You want to play for it? You have never beaten La Sage."
Openly challenging now, Frank mocked back: "But you're not La Sage."
"No-" Quint answered, pulling a chair away from the table and sitting down. "But I'm the one who thought her how to play!"
In the sleight roll of his fathers shoulders, Karl recognised the oh-hell-what-have-I-gotten-myself-in-now! gesture. And he agreed, looking around the room and asking himself whether he would have enough time to pack.
Several hours later, Quint and his men stomped out of the bar, angry, insulted, about two hundred dracs, several trinkets and one wounded T-Rex cub lighter.
News had spread quickly and to Frank's astonishment, both Rosemary and Marian had come to take care of 'the baby', thereby relieving Karl from his little burden. With foresight, they had also brought a sturdy iron cage.
Rosemary was the tall pale high priestess of Dinotopian values, although she would never be pointed out as such nor even think of calling herself by such a title. She was the proud Matriach, midwife to the Saurian orphans in the Hatchery where she held watch over new life. She was the leader on earth farm, distinguished counsel member and in many ways a keeper of the laws. Although in recent times she had found herself not above braking said laws, if a life was at stake. Rosemary's task included the spiritual guidance of young Dinotopians and newcomers. A daunting task, forever questioned, forever in need of proving herself. She could feel where a person's soul belonged, even if their hearts and minds ruled otherwise, and sent them to the places where they mattered most, could challenge themselves most an would, eventually, be contend and happy.
David Scott was proof of her capabilities. It was a rather strange thing to declare a boy with a fear of heights to be of the sky. But he had found himself there between the winds. Karl and Frank proved more difficult. Even if she just –knew- both men to be caretakers and providers above anything else, they seemed ill at ease in the roles she had in mind for them. But Frank, for all his temper, was definitely of the Earth, he always seemed to wish to –make- things. And Karl? If only that boy would settle down for a change- Rosemary's daughter Marian cared deeply for him and their differences would complete each other well.
If only both the boy and the girl could brave the rift between them, that had been steadily growing for two long moths now.
Marian had been considered special from the day she was born and she felt stifled by her destination to become Matriarch after her mother. Not as set in her ways as many Dinotopians around her, she had been both attracted and repulsed by Karl's ideas of the outside world and change. That was until she had learned no born Dinotopian could ever live elsewhere on Earth. Dinotopian bodies, especially their lungs, could not cope with the polluted society the rest of mankind had built itself. If Marian ever left the island of her birth, she would fall ill and die within the year. For a little while, a few hours, she had been allowed the high hopes she could leave, together with Karl and Frank. But David had warned her not to go. And other mysterious occurrences had prevented the Scotts to leave as well. But Marian could not put behind her that Karl would not stay if given half a chance to leave. Not even for her.
He had told her he loved her.
And now it was so very hard to trust again.
Marian took to her father in appearance who was from Spanish decent, she was dark, lovely and very strong willed. Marian was the schoolteacher of Waterfall City's human children. She taught them the Rules of Dinotopia, to read Footprint and to communicate with the Saurians.
During the game Karl had taken place at his father's shoulder like a sentinel, and to his amusement he had seen Quint's certain smile melt into irritation and after that, rage. Not taking the loss of the cub, he had played on. Only to only loose one of his golden wristbands, a necklace made from colourful gems, all of his money and one of his two large knives. But more precious than those was the sworn confession, on paper, of the location the little T-Rex had been caught.
Grinning ear to ear Frank treated the remaining guest who had stayed to support him, to 'one on the house' and while they cheered, he gave the knife to Karl, who could not hide his childlike joy with it but withered under Marian's gaze. So he gave the damn thing to Lorenzo to better shop seaweed with. It left Marion somewhat puzzled, but at least she did not frown at him anymore.
Frank did not stay to toast his victory, all smiles fading from his features as he went into his office to check up on the cub. It lay silently on a bed of straw in the cage, but looked up and meeped pathetically as he entered.
"How is it going in here. Is he bad?"
Rosemary, sitting on her hunches next to the cage sighed. It was a playpen like construction, open at the top.
"One of the leg wounds is deep, but it is cleaned now. He is very tired and hungry. But I have nothing to feed him with."
Frank nodded, thinking hard.
"I'll ask Lorenzo if he has any of the unfertilised chicken eggs left. I don't know if he'll take it- but at least its no greens. And I'll bring some water."
Rosemary smiled and frowned a little. "That might work."
Frank hesitated a moment. "You-er, you know people in the outside world aren't vegetarians, don't you?"
The Matriarch nodded. "Yes Frank, unfortunately."
"Remember that ship, where Karl found the radio?"
She gave another slow nod and rose slowly from the ground in that queenly dignified way that she had, taking care she would not faint after her long crouch.
"Vividly. Why."
Frank dared not to look the lady in the eye. Under the Matriarch's stern gaze he almost felt like he was a five-year-old again, admitting to his mum he had been stealing cookies from the jar.
"Well, when people go out sailing, they take food- and those guys- they had some freeze dried burgers and- well, we kept most of them- for special occasions-"
"I'm sorry Frank, I don't understand what you are saying."
"Meat of a cow- preserved in such a way it's still good. I'll feed it to him."
Distaste flickered over Rosemary's face, but then she controlled herself. Always the practical one, she was at least pleased with the idea in little Tyrannosaur would not starve.
But then she frowned.
"Kept –most- of them, you say?"
Frank flinched and backed out of the room.
"I-er- I'll just get it for him, right? Right."
On his way back from the kitchen and the store-room, hands full and manoeuvring gingerly not to spill the water, Frank was stopped by Karl who was now tending the bar again, for the few last very happy guests.
"I thought Quint said –he- was the one who taught LaSage to play poker!"
Frank grinned. "Yeah- but she probably learned to cheat all on he own!"
Karl laughed. "How is the little guy?"
Frank held up the food. "Hungry!
"Oh no dad! You are –not- gonna give him our last burgers, are you?"
"It's not the last- Besides, I don't think Snapper is interested in any vegetable stew."
Karl opened his mouth to answer that one, closed his mouth again and then asked "Snapper?"
But his father had already turned away.
"That smells disgusting." Marian said hauntingly, turning her face away from the little T-Rex munching on the slightly cooked burgers.
"Yeah well, I thought it would go down better like this."
Rosemary sat on her knees again near the cage but at a respectable distance, studying the creature.
"I've never actually seen one eat before."
"I have." Marian said wryly.
Frank was leaning keeling next to the cage, tiredly resting his arms on the side, chin on his hands.
"He just looks like some weird kind of cat."
The T-Rex looked up at the sound of his voice and he smiled, unaware of the worried looks the two women exchanged.
"You might want to take some care, Frank," Rosemary advised. "One of his younger cousins nearly cost some of my people their fingers. He could jump at your face."
"Nah, I don't think so. You know what, I bet you they even purr, don't you, you little Snapper."
Unthinkingly Frank reached out and patted the creature on the head. It swiftly looked up from it's meal, hopped a little closer, savouring the wounded leg and tilted it's head.
Marian stepped closer, ready to pull her friend away. "Frank don't!" she warned. But the man shrugged, even leaned a bit closer and scratched the chin of the little one, his fingers right next to the razor sharp teeth that even at its tender age could rip his throat out.
The little T-Rex bowed his head to the side, trustingly exposing it's own throat and cooed a soft sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. Frank smiled down at it.
"Not really a purr, you know. But I'll buy."
"Frank-" Rosemary then did pull his hand away. The little creature in the pen changed it's tone to a full threatening growl and tried to jump at her on one leg, failing to bite her only because it was still to weak. A bit startled the two humans rose to their feet.
"Feisty little thing, now aren't you."
"Frank!" Rosemary urged.
Frank turned, his eyes a bit glazed over and blinking, as if just waking.
"What- Is there a problem here?"
"Did you just name him?"
He answered a bit defensive. "So- I don't like to call him 'he you!'. So what?"
"But you hate the Tyrannosaurs." Marian urged him. Frank turned back to the little creature, that stared up at him almost like a trusting pup.
"Didn't you even wanted to destroy them all?"
Frank stepped back from the pen. "What is going on here?"
Rosemary took him by the arm and sat him down on the battered couth next to the pen.
"How do you feel about the Tyrannosaurs, Frank."
He shook his head. "I hate them. With all my guts. I thought they killed my boy. Every bloody time I go somewhere they turn up as if we're having a god dammed lunch meeting!"
He stood and turned away, pacing the small space of the room.
"And I keep asking myself- what is so important in keeping those overgrown vermin around? Why don't you destroy them. They are a menace, nothing more!"
Rosemary stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"So why is this one different, Frank."
Frank turned around, almost pleading. "He's not. But he's just a small one."
"He'll grow."
The little T-Rex looked up at Frank and started to make an almost bleating sound, as if pleading.
"He doesn't think I'm his mother, does he?"
"No." Marian answered. "He knows all too well whom his mother really is. But I do think he likes you."
"Besides," Rosemary started, "You did name him-"
"So you said. What's so important about that?"
"Only a Life Mate names their Saurian partner Frank. And I'm afraid you've found yours."
Frank stumbled back, until he collided with the couch and flopped down, staring up at the women.
"O god-" he muttered, gazing at the little T-Rex who happily stared back at him, tail swishing.
"I need a drink."