Notes

Soundtrack suggestions:

The email and Claire's decision:
- Theropod Preservation Society - Michael Giacchino, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (Up to 01:09).

-o-

The afternoon of the next day, Claire returned to their gym and when Owen, who returned earlier the eve of his days off, joined her there, she was finishing her series of push-ups. He chose a playlist on his cell phone, played it, warmed up, and started exercising with the punching bag while the playlist played songs from various European metal bands.

After finishing her last push-up, Claire stood up, stretched and picked up one of the dumbbells. She sat in the chair that remained permanently in the room and performed a series of fifteen arm bends. At the end of the last bend, she put the dumbbell down on the floor with a heavy sigh and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Easy, spare yourself Claire. You've been exercising for almost an hour."

"If I can't have a healthy mind, I would like to have at least a healthy body. If I slack off, I risk staying on the couch and being too lazy to do anything else. I don't want to end up drinking and smoking all day while being fat as a sow. I'm already repulsive enough."

Owen interrupted his exercise and crouched down before her.

"Claire, Claire… please stop saying you're repulsive. Many people depreciate you, don't rub it in. And you already exercise fairly regularly, unlike many women in your situation. And if you ever slack off, then I'll behave like Viggo Mortensen's character in G.I. Jane if that's what you want..."

"It will be in your interest to do so..."

He got up, went to the kitchen and came back with two uncapped beers. He gave one to his girlfriend.

"You're my wife," he said, "maybe not on a legal standpoint but there is almost no difference. You're my queen."

"Queen of nothing but ashes…," she replied before taking a sip.

"Queen of my heart."

Her beer almost went down the wrong way and she shook her head, laughing mockingly.

"You're really ridiculous when you're romantic," she pointed out.

"Maybe," he admitted with a smile, happy to see her more relaxed.

She began to play nervously with her fingers.

"Speaking of wife, you haven't proposed yet. It's not like there's any suspense about it. You know I would say yes..."

"Don't think I don't want to marry you, I really do. I mean… We live together, we're raising a son. I'm just waiting for the right moment, for things to settle down, in order to not have a wedding which suddenly turns into an assassination attempt."

"If things settle down..."

The playlist had started a new track, which mixed heavy metal and traditional Mongolian music, and the sounds produced by the Morin khuur's strings and the guttural khöömii singing proved to be pleasant for Claire's ears.

"I like this music," she said.

"A friend in Caer Draig sent it to me."

The next day, he could see that she had listened to the advice he had given her the other night, the one about avoiding works with dragons. She had postponed God of War to instead resume Uncharted: The Lost Legacy, an action-adventure game whose atmosphere and plot were similar to that of the Indiana Jones films or the Tomb Raider saga. She had reached the last segment of the game, which consisted in a chase that involved a train carrying a bomb and which had to be stopped. However, the level seemed to be more difficult than the previous ones because Owen heard Claire swear several times, uttering "Asshole!", "Son of a bitch!" or "Go fuck your goat!" whenever the heroine she played was shot by an enemy or failed.

Following several consecutive failures, Claire decided to take a break and got up from the sofa to grab her phone from a nearby piece of furniture. She surfed the internet for a while but it quickly bored her. Before closing her browser, she went to check her private mailbox and her eyebrows rose when she saw that she had received an email from some man named Elijah Mills, a name that was a bit familiar to her. She opened the email:

Subject: Invitation to the reception of March 23rd.

(2) Attachments

Hello Mrs Dearing,

I don't know if you remember me, but if you don't, let me reintroduce myself. My name is Elijah Mills and I'm the manager of the Lockwood Foundation.

As you must have learned through the media, the government recently authorized International Genetics to transport the surviving animals of Jurassic World to American soil. To celebrate this, as well as the future resumption of Operation Fallen Kingdom, Benjamin Lockwood will be hosting a reception at his manor on March 23, starting at 6 p.m., and he would very much like to invite you and your partner Mr. Grady. You will find the invitations as attachments.

Mr. Lockwood and I are aware that you and InGen have a difficult relationship following the disastrous events of Christmas 2017, but know that Benjamin bitterly regrets the treatment of which you have been the victim and that he invites you not as the former CEO of International Genetics and member of its boards of directors but as a friend. He and I would also like to talk to you privately as we have an offer for you.

Rest assured that you will be on neutral ground at the reception and anyone who will bother you during it will have to answer to Mr. Lockwood.

I sincerely hope that you and Mr. Grady will accept this invitation and I hope you'll answer very soon.

Yours sincerely,

Eli Mills

Elijah Mills
Manager of the Lockwood Foundation
Lockwood Estate
Old State Highway
Orick CA 95555

"Is everything alright, honey?" Owen asked.

"I got an email from the Lockwood Foundation… We're invited to a reception."

"A reception?"

He came over to her and she handed him her phone so he could consult the email.

"Elijah Mills," he read, "who's that prick? He claims to know you."

"Lockwood's flunky, he manages his foundation. I last saw him years ago. He made advances to me but I rejected them. He was just another boring suit, not the kind of man I was looking for..."

Owen smiled and she added:

"My gash has an advantage: You don't have to worry about other men…"

"Oh you know, some are like me and others who're into scars," he said, making her chuckle. "You want to go to that reception?"

"I do not know. I've been keeping a low profile for a year. Since we moved here, I've been left in peace. I would like for things to go on like this, for his sake...," she replied, looking towards Sigurd who was sitting nearby. "And I'm afraid that this reception is a trap. On the other hand, I would like to know what their offer is. It might be the only one for a while..."

"Whatever you decide, I'll be with you. If it ends up being a trap whose purpose is to humiliate you, you can count on me to trash their little party."

She smiled and laughed softly.

"Reception means evening wear," she pointed out. "Do you have a tuxedo? I didn't see any among your clothes."

"Uh…"

"You went to your high school prom?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't in a tuxedo."

"Your date must have appreciated... And when you were in the navy?"

"Ceremonial uniform. And I didn't have a tuxedo in my luggage when I arrived on Nublar."

"It's true that I've never seen you wear one. We'd better go buy you one, it might come in handy."

He nodded.

"In any case, we have the invitations," he said. "Take the rest of the day and tomorrow to think about it. You'll let me know of your decision when I return from work. I will have to take a couple of days off if we're going".

The next morning, instead of staying in bed a little longer as she usually did, she got up and went down to the kitchen while he was having breakfast.

"Owen, I've made my decision. Tell your boss you'll be absent on the twenty-third and the twenty-fourth. We'll go to Orick."