The Alpha was currently feeling less like an Alpha and more like the food he tried to avoid being perceived as--he'd established a dominance and high level at the food chain first and foremost with the raptors. With the Rex? He just wasn't big enough and let's face it, didn't have enough teeth.
There was in fact a distinct difference in staying hidden and not moving. Owen purposefully put an emphasis on the not moving because Tyrannosaur wasn't all reliant on scent and eyes for her hunting. She went by movement.
Cursing blonde lady didn't seem to get that, nor did a few others who couldn't hold out over their fear (and Owen didn't blame them). Had he not been trained and experienced, he'd be pissing his pants. He still was, just in a more conservative manner, if you will.
Rex roared at whom she could see moving, each thrust of her massive head and jowls coming down on the Hall as she attempted to pick off the fleeing prey. Owen wanted nothing more than to shoot the ever living out of her but knew his entire clip wouldn't be enough to numb her foot. Shit. There had to be something else he could use, unfortunately no nearby flares to take a page from Claire's book. From the corner of his eye he spotted what looked like a battered projector, having flown from what was left of a meeting room.
Moving, creeping lightly over the floor and careful not to let his boots tread heavy, Owen scooted his way along the wall when Rexy was facing away, aimed at plugging in the projector in hopes to point it away from the people long enough to let them run. That was his hope, anyways.