Date a purple scaly boy. Date a boy with lots of rows of teeth. Date a boy with ferocious attacks that you feel the need to bind his limbs so he won’t kill your party. Date a boy, that, surprise, after inflicting head, arm, and legs binds on, you find out that actually makes him more powerful and you’re screwed.
What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little rookie? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class at the Midgard Library, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret missions in Etria, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in combat and I’m the top sniper in the entire Explorer’s Guild. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before in this labyrinth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me in the bar? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of Dinogators across Yggdrasil and your guild card is being traced right now so you better prepare for the FOEs, maggot. The FOEs that wipe out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re getting a game fucking over, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only do I have 5000 skill points invested in fist mastery, but I have access to the entire drive blade arsenal of the Imperial knights and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of your poorly-drawn map, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit furyhorns all over you and you will drown in it. You’re out of fucking ariadne threads, kiddo.
When a genetically modified dinosaur single-handedly presses pause on her life, Claire:
Confronts some truths; Finds a hobby; Strikes up a new (sort of) friendship; Becomes a dog owner; and Gets a second kiss.
In that order.
Or how the Indominus rex was actually a blessing in disguise.
I wish to formally notify you that I am resigning from my position as Senior Assets Manager of Jurassic World. My last day of employment will be ___________ as per my obligations under the terms of my employment contract.
I appreciate all of the opportunities and professional support given to me during my tenure at Masrani Global Corporation. It has truly been a remarkable and enjoyable ___________ years, and I wish you and the company all the success in the future.
If I can be of any assistance during this transition, please let me know. I would be more than happy to lend my services wherever they are needed.
Claire Elizabeth Dearing
She remembers drafting that letter, has a surprisingly vivid recollection of sitting hunched over her laptop at two in the morning (twelve hours after Simon had called to offer his hearty congratulations, his enthusiastic “You’re hired!” still ringing in her ears), clacking away at the keyboard as some inane infomercial played in the background, a mug of chamomile tea growing cold at her elbow.
It hadn’t been hubris or an inflated ego that had compelled Claire to write the letter when she had. As far as she knew, lucrative offers weren’t skulking in the shadows somewhere, waiting to jump her when she least expected it, seducing her with six-figure salaries and too-good-to-be-true benefits. Simon had already been taking a gamble by hiring her.
No, it had simply been part of a contingency plan (because preparing for worst-case scenarios is what Claire does best) should Simon’s vision for Jurassic World turn out to be a complete nonstarter. Not that she’d lacked faith in the venture.
(Okay, she’d had her doubts. But given the lousy track record of its predecessor, who wouldn’t?)
Thinking of bringing along Zach for whenever I’m gonna fight a Dinogator for real so he can Evil Eye it, but I’m kinda afraid he’ll be too busy indulging in his newly (re?)discovered infatuation with the thing.
Eh, maybe it’ll get tagged by Fear anyways if Zach just drools on it creepily enough.