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You're not the only one with unique abilities. I've gotten a faction of mine back.

[Here, at least, is the benefit of the loss of Scary Monsters: there's no fear in how she steps towards him.]

I'm surprised none of your raptors followed you out here.

They're not raptors anymore, and I'm not their master. They have no reason to follow me unless Scary Monsters' new user wills it.

[That's what Diego would do. If Dr. Ferdinand hadn't been ripped apart by the mountain lion he used, he would have used his newfound power to kill the previous user and leave no chance of competition. But whoever the new user is likely doesn't know who Diego is, or that it's his ability. So, for now, he presumes that he's safe so long as he keeps his head down.]

[He casts his gaze aside from Rosalind, frustration curling his lips.]

It will pass. Your abilities will return to you.

[They're not comforting words, but logical ones. She's no good at comfort, and she suspects even if she was, Diego would spurn it. But logic is cold and precise, and perhaps he'll like that.]

. . . what did they change back into?

[She's right. Logic is preferred to a botched attempt at comfort. Or comfort in general when it comes to the loss of power. He has his pride, and he is not a child. Anything less than logic in this matter would insinuate otherwise.]

Whatever they were before they changed.

[So some of them? Dead.]

[She gestures slightly impatiently, a nonverbal gesture of explain. But just in case he doesn't get it:]

Which is--?

[It's actually impossible for Diego to know what each and every dinosaur was before it became one given the way Scary Monsters quickly multiplies. But he knows a few of them.]

I start with rats and cats. What they do from there, I don't keep as close an eye on. Some of them were those little hobgoblins.

[Her eyebrows tick upwards.]

I don't suppose they acted any differently than the ones that were cats and rats?

[She feels bad for Diego, yeah, but science is science, and she's always curious to know more.]

[Diego looks at Rosalind out of the corner of his eye, and it's not a look particularly made of patience that he's sending her way right now. She might have her scientific curiosity, but he's not particularly interested in it right now. Still, he answers the question. Tersely, but still an answer.]

They might have some subtle physical differences, but they act the same as each other.

[She returns his look, her own expression blank. What the hell is he going to do, send Silver Bullet after her?]

Well. I'm sure you're correct, but when your power returns to you, I'd like to experiment with them. In the meantime . . . are you really going to spend the next few days out here alone?

I won't be alone, [Diego corrects because honestly from his perspective, having Silver Bullet around means he won't be alone. Maybe isolated from other people, but fuck them. He's never needed a single goddamn one of them.] It's not a problem for me to be out here. Compared to spending nights out in the desert or sleeping outside during the dead of winter, this will seem like a paradise.

Good grief.

[Listen, people evolved to live indoors for a reason. That sounds like hell.]

If you tire of your Eden, you're welcome to come by the lab for a meal.

[Don't you yare yare daze him??]

[He makes a face though at the prospect of a meal from her. From her. He cannot imagine she knows how to cook anything, so for once, his offense is less at the charity and more at what's being offered.]

I'm more than capable of making my own food. It may not be gourmet, but at least it's edible...

[WOW]

I was going to warm up some of the meals someone else made for me, but you can savor your squirrels.

[Watch out. Diego's starting to look s m u g.]

I don't eat squirrels, but they'd still be more edible than anything you'd give me. And that's even after scraping off the burnt bits.

And you can do so much better? Let's see, then.

The prim and proper Dr. Lutece stepping further into the woods? [He huffs a laugh as he pushes off the tree he's leaning on.] What is the world coming to?

Keep any jokes about red hoods and wolves to yourself, and we might well survive the morning, Mr. Brando.

[She keeps her chin tipped up, her posture and air proud as anything, but he's right: she is stepping closer. That being said, the deeper they step into the woods, the closer she walks, both to him and Silver Bullet.]

Show me where you've camped, and how much better you are at cooking. I haven't had breakfast.

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