[John is enjoying a stroll outside when he stops outside the Dilophosaur paddock. He reads the sign, saying that they are capable of spitting goo that will blind him on contact with his eyes. He backs away slowly hearing a slight hiss and rattling. He turns around and scurries away, nervous]What the hell is going on here? I haven't really gone out
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It's probably going to go horribly and predictably wrong in ... oh ... a few days.
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We've been placed here with what belongings we could easily run with, on an island with many very large predators who have no natural fear of man, and nothing between them and us but electric fences that can go down if tampered with at all.
And it's the Author.
She aims for dramatics.
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[Guess who's hating this week especially so~? 8Dd]
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