Chapter Text
Claire mopped her brow with the one hand that wasn't covered in dirt and squinted in the sunlight. Shit, she thought, of course Masrani Corp would choose this day to send their new Operations Manager out to the raptor compound. She'd been working herself to the bone all morning, finally being able to get all four velociraptors to stop mid-hunt at her whistle. She was damn proud of herself, and so were InGen. But, of course, the cash cow that Jurassic World had become demanded more. So, she'd been stood in the midday sun for an hour, the ivory skin at the back of her neck surely burnt by now; trying to make four prehistoric animals listen to her command of waiting before they tore into the defenceless piglet in the compound with them. Impossible, right? Claire was beginning to think so.
She was sweating profusely and was covered partially in rat's blood and dino shit, the latter streaked down the pale thighs exposed beneath her khaki shorts. There was no time to make herself look even half presentable - the new boss had already swung himself confidently from the jeep. He was clad in black suit and tie - Who seriously wears something like that out to a secluded animal behavioural unit in the Costa Rican heat? Claire wondered, wrinkling her nose in indignation. He had on mirrored Ray-Bans, which complemented the whole corporate effect he was clearly going for. The only aspects that didn't sit right in Claire's opinion were the beard, the tan and the strong, steel-like cords of muscle not even his expensive suit could disguise. And Claire hated herself for feeling something reminiscent of desire swoop low in her belly.
He extended a hand to her. "I'm Owen, Owen Grady. I'm not sure if you've been informed, but I'm the new park operations manager. I've heard excellent things about the work you're doing down here." It pissed Claire off that he hadn't removed his glasses to talk to her. Smug bastard, she thought. You can tell by the way that he swings his hips and talks like a Harvard grad that this guy takes himself way too seriously. She begrudgingly shook his offered hand. "I'm Claire Dearing. This project is under InGen's command, so, uh, I'm not sure where you would've heard such great things from." She removed her baseball cap and ran a hand through her sticky fringe and short auburn hair. She cursed herself for looking so haggard - the cicadas had kept her awake in her bungalow all night, and she knew the bags under her eyes would look so freaking cute with the abundance of freckles that had sprouted due to constant exposure to the sun. Damn it.
He smiled, a great shit-eating grin stretching across his face. Up close, he didn't look particularly management material. He had frown lines, laughter lines and a scar down the side of his neck that couldn't have been the result of sitting in an office. "We're taking things in a slightly different direction now. I want to be involved with every kind of animal on this island. We need to take a more in-depth look, we need to know what makes them tick. You can relate to that, right?" He proposed. Claire fought hard not to roll her eyes. "Uh.. It's kind of what we do here." She folded her arms over her chest, and the thought of exposing her cleavage nearly didn't cross her mind. Nearly. Grow up, Claire, she sternly reprimanded herself. This guy literally oozed every trait possessed by a complete jerk, but she couldn't help herself. It'd been a long time since she'd been in such close quarters with a man as domineering and attractive as this. "You and I will be seeing a lot more of one another, Miss Dearing. Keep up the good work." With that, he swaggered off to apparently converse with her assistant, Zara. "You can call me Claire," she called after him. And she hated the fact he didn't turn round.