<blockquote>“Zhan-jie,” Wei Ying whines, and Lan Zhan is appalled to realize that the sound sends a shiver down her spine. She wants to shut Wei Ying’s stupid mouth. She wants to tie Wei Ying’s hands behind her back and tell her exactly what she is and is not allowed to do. She. Hm.
“Explain,” Lan Zhan commands her, voice going dark and heavy, and the startled look that Wei Ying gives her sends another zip through each and every one of Lan Zhan’s nerve endings.
Hm, Lan Zhan thinks, again.
“Well,” Wei Ying mumbles, darting glances at Lan Zhan, “well, the thing is, Baby sort of — it’s not her fault, but she, when she ran away, she sort of. She, uh. Well, she had a passenger.”
“A passenger.”
“The dinosaur took my nephew,” Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan lays her forehead against the wheel and ignores the horn as it sounds.
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OR: Lan Zhan, sensible museum curator and paleontologist, gets robbed, gets arrested, gets a headache, gets a wife.</blockquote>