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Nick Wilde was a red fox in his early thirties that had been working at Leopold’s Tavern for nearly a decade. Was he always a bartender? No. No he was not. He had started out as a busboy, eventually tried his paw at serving, and after learning how to tend bar, fell into a comfortable routine there. He would still serve or run food occasionally when old Leo needed the extra paws, but Nick was most at home behind the bar.
See, the average mammal might say he wasn’t making anything of himself. That he was a failure stuck in a dead end job. But he was a mixologist. An honest-to-God mixologist! He had to go to school and pass exams for that title. To him, tending bar wasn’t just a way to make a living, or to meet more unsavory mammals in Zootopia, but it was an art form. A way of creative expression. And he loved it.
And hey, the money wasn’t bad, and meeting new people was his one of his many fortes. Even the unsavory ones! Because Leopold’s Tavern wasn’t exactly home to the most wholesome of animals. Oh no, Leopold’s was that hole-in-the-wall, drab sort of place you might find in some sort of mobster film. Were there mobsters at Leo’s? Nick couldn’t say for sure. But Nick knew that the ripping, old upholstery on the chairs, the dusty decor on the walls, and the light fixtures that had to be breaking some sort of fire code all looked like they belonged in a sketchy action film.
Nick prided himself on knowing just about everyone in Zootopia. He had seen his fair sure of the streets, met many mammals in his line of work, and was generally a very social mammal. He was the type of person to strike up a conversation with random strangers. So when he sees a little bunny rabbit wander in alone late one Wednesday night, he doesn’t know what to think of her… other than the fact that she might be lost and wandered in to find directions. Nick is pretty sure she’s definitely not from around here. She does not strike him as a city bunny.
Despite the fact that Leopold’s is the way that is, the bunny seems pretty confident as she strolls up to the bar. Nick studies her carefully from the side of the bar; waiting for signs of distress. Nick knows if he were her, he might be a little concerned with being eaten alive. She doesn’t look like the type of mammal that surrounds herself with many predatory animals. Especially ones this big! More often than not, Nick was the smallest mammal in the whole joint.
The bunny in question quite literally hops up onto a stool at the bar. She looks like she’s waiting for someone to serve her, as she gets out an ID and credit card. Nick stops wiping down the glass he’s working on and strolls over to her end of the bar, ready to take her drink order.
She seems shocked when she sees him. Nick doesn’t want to assume she’s afraid, but the thought definitely crosses his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time a bunny rabbit had a fear response to him and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Nick sighs internally and asks, “What can I get you, Doll?” as he leans up against the bar in front of her.
The rabbit panics. Or at least, it looks like she is. She stumbles over her words for a few seconds before she stammers out, “C-chocolate milk,” as she hands over her cards.
Nick raises his eyebrows in surprise and takes the payment. It’s not the first time he’s had to accept someone’s ID for a non-alcoholic beverage in order to start up a tab, but it is the first time he’s had to do it for chocolate milk. Nick points to a sign by the register without much commitment and says, “Just so you know, we have a $10 minimum for credit.”
The bunny blinks a couple times. She seems to be coming back from whatever universe her mind had been in before. “Oh. How much do I owe you for the drink?” she asks.
Nick shrugs. He looks at the ID briefly, noting her name is Judith Hopps and that she’s 24. “Well Miss Hopps,” he starts, “I’m not quite sure. I’d imagine you’d be out somewhere between two and three dollars, but I’ve never had a mammal order chocolate milk here before. I’ve got milk and I’ve got chocolate, so it’s possible, it’s just never been done.”
The bunny blushes. “O-on second thought,” she says, “what’s on special tonight?”
Nick rolls off from memory, “$2.50 well shots and domestic bottles, $3.50 martinis. Why? Not into chocolate milk all the sudden?”
“No! I accidentally said that because I was nervous,” she admits with a blush. The rabbit seems to ponder over what Nick said a moment before speaking again, “A martini doesn’t sound bad. What one’s your favorite?” She certainly seems to be regaining some of that confidence from earlier.
Nick chuckles. “And what makes you assume that I have a favorite martini?” he asks coyly.
“Because you’re the bartender. You should have a favorite everything,” she says.
Nick makes a ‘tsk, tsk’ noise before replying, “Just because I’m a bartender, doesn’t mean I’m an alcoholic, Miss Hopps. But for the record, my favorite is the blueberry pomegranate.”
“You can call me Judy, if you want. And that sounds good to me. I’ll try that,” she says.
“Alright Judy, one blueberry pomegranate martini coming right up,” Nick says before turning to the register to open her tab. He gets started right away combining the various liqueurs, vodkas, and juices required for her particular drink in a mixer with some ice. He lifts the shaker up near his head, shaking it with both paws. He flashes her a brief smile before he finishes up, which makes her blush again. Nick finds her persistent, natural rouge fascinating and finds himself wanting to rile that out from her the more she does it.
He pours the concoction into a martini glass and garnishes it with an orange twist. Grabbing a nearby cocktail napkin, he sets it on the bar before resting the glass on top of it. “Can I get you anything else?” he asks.
“Nope, this is perfect for now, thank-you,” Judy says.
“Perfect. I’ll be right back,” he says with a wink. He walks away after witnessing her blush yet again. Interesting, Nick thought as he approached a tiger at the end of the counter.
Nick grabs the tiger another beer, and idly chats with him for a couple minutes. The pair are definitely familiar. Nick has known this guy for quite a few years. He wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but Nick knows this particular mammal is one of Gazelle’s backup dancers. Small world, huh? His name is Allan, but none of the avid Gazelle fans knew him as such. Even backup dancers used stage names sometimes. Allan actually used to work here with Nick as a server before making it big as a professional dancer. Most people in this particular line of customer service tried their best not to be in it for very long if they could help it.
After making sure the tiger is alright, Nick returns to Judy, empty glass and towel in paw. The bar isn’t very busy at all. It’s well into the night at this point, but most mammals who frequented this establishment weren’t particularly looking for a martini.
Nick leans up against the back counter and asks, “So what do you think, Carrots?”
Judy rolls her eyes at the unfortunate nickname and says, “It’s pretty good!”
“Better than chocolate milk?” Nick asks.
Judy blushes again. “I don’t know,” she says teasingly. “I do really like chocolate milk.”
Nick laughs at her quip. “So what brings a cute little bunny like you into Leopold’s Tavern on this fine Wednesday night of all things?”
The bunny in question furrows her brow. “Don’t call me cute,” she says in disdain.
Nick raises his eyebrows in surprise. Normally calling a lady cute earned him a fatter tip. He added this new bit of information to the mental profile he was creating for her. “Alright. I’ll try again. What brings you to Leo’s?” he asks.
Judy props her elbows onto the bar and leans her head against her paws. “I don’t know. It’s pretty close to my house and I felt like getting a drink tonight. Last I checked that wasn’t a crime,” she says.
Nick chooses his words carefully this time, hoping to flirt his way into some extra cash without offending her again, “I don’t know, I think it might be illegal for beautiful bunnies like yourself to come to sketchy dive bars like this one. I know I’ve never seen one here before.”
“You’ve never seen a rabbit here before?” Judy asks.
“No, I’ve seen a few bunnies before, just never any beautiful ones,” Nick says with a wink. He sets the glass up on a shelf after witnessing her blush again. He knows he’s got her at this point, and is looking forward to the tip. As he looks at her more, though, he realizes she is kinda cute. If he squints maybe.
With determination, she says, “Well, it’s still not illegal for me to be here.”
“On whose authority?” Nick asks.
“Mine. I’m an officer,” she says.
Nick raises a brow in suspicion. “Well that’s new. Never heard of a bunny cop before.”
Judy shrugs. “I guess I’m the first one.”
“Good for you,” Nick says. “Did you get an award?” he asks in jest.
“No. Just a badge. Like everyone else.”
Nick notices a little tension in her voice. It must be a touchy subject, he thinks. Wanting to avoid the subject for both their sakes, he opts to change it just a bit, “So is that what brought you to Zootopia?”
“Is it really that obvious that I’m not a local?” she asks.
“Well,” Nick starts, “you did look pretty lost when you came in. I chalked it up to fear at first, but you seem pretty comfortable here, all things considered. Also, I know everyone. And I don’t know you. So that led me to believe you’re from some carrot-choked Podunk, no?”
“Actually, Podunk is in Deerbrooke County and I’m from Bunnyburrow!” she corrects.
Nick chuckles at that. He grabs another glass to wipe down and says, “I can’t believe Podunk is a real town. I was just kidding. I’m sure Bunnyburrow is lovely. I’ll be back, Carrots. I gotta tend to someone.”
Nick whips the towel over one of his shoulders and sets the glass down. He catches a glance of the flustered bunny sulking into her martini and shakes his head slightly as he approaches the newcomer joining Allan. “You want your Wednesday usual Marcus?” Nick asks the tiger.
Marcus replies, “Nah. I’ll have whatever you just gave Allan. That looks good.”
“It’s beer,” Allan starts, “of course it’s good.”
Marcus laughs. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“I’m always right,” he replies with a snap.
Nick shakes his head at their antics as he pours Marcus his beer. While Allan is a little flamboyant and dressed in tight pants and a loud shirt that rivals even Nick’s Pawaiian prints, Marcus is a bit more reserved in a simple t-shirt and jeans combo. You can tell just by looking at them that Allan would most likely be the more outspoken of the two. And you would be correct there.
Nick sets the beer down on the bar in front of Marcus. He knows without asking that they’re both on Allan’s tab. They come here on most Wednesdays they can manage. “Can I get anything else for you boys?” he asks.
Marcus says, “Nope we’re-” and immediately gets cut off by Allan.
Allan makes an obnoxious wolf whistle and says, “You could shake that ass!”
Marcus hits Allan on the arm in protest and scolds, “Allan, don’t be lewd,” in a quiet voice.
Nick shrugs before turning around to walk away. As he gets a little closer to Judy’s end of the bar, he does indeed shake his ass, which earns a delighted cheer from Allan. Nick knows Allan and Marcus are always good for it and will leave him a fat tip, but Nick does what he can to earn it.
Nick rejoins Judy and notices her glass is empty now. “Another martini, Carrots?” he asks.
Judy rolls her eyes and says, “No, actually. Could I see a drink menu?”
Nick nods and grabs a laminated booklet from behind the bar and places it in front of her. He also grabs a Rolodex full of handwritten shot recipes. “I've got everything you could probably ever want in that drink menu, and this thing is full of shots,” he says as he pats the top of the Rolodex with a paw. “If you don't see something you want for some reason, I can almost guarantee I can make it for you.”
Judy starts to flip through the Rolodex. “You so sure about that?” she asks.
Nick laughs in response. “Carrots, I’ve been making people drinks far longer than you’ve been able to legally consume them. Trust me, I can make it. I keep this place pretty well stocked.”
“Do you own this place?” Judy asks.
“Hell no. I am the head bartender, though. Leo lets me order just about anything I want. I do all the inventory.”
“Hm. Why’s this one called an Alien Brain Hemorrhage?” she asks.
“It looks like a brain when you serve it. The peach schnapps resemble a brain in color and the varying viscosity of the liquids make it look like one if you pour it properly,” Nick says.
“It sounds disgusting,” Judy says.
“It’s really not that bad. Mammals like to order it just to be weird to their pals usually. Names sell stuff sometimes.”
Judy shrugs and continues to flip through the shots. Pretty shortly after, she pipes up again, “Ah! Here it is. Can I buy you a shot?” she asks.
Nick holds a paw to his chest dramatically like a southern belle and gasps obnoxiously. “Why Carrots, I'm flattered! You want to buy a drink for little old me?” he asks.
“Ugh. Maybe not,” she says.
Nick drops the facade. “Alright, alright. What did you decide on?”
“Can you make us a Dirty Girl Scout please?” she asks sweetly.
“Oh my God that should literally be illegal,” Nick says.
“The drink?” Judy questions with feigned ignorance.
“No. Your adorable bunny face and batting eyelashes and shit. Uncool rabbit,” Nick says as he pulls out ingredients for the shooters.
Judy laughs in response. “Yeah it does seem a little dirty, huh?”
Nick groans in protest. He does some finishing touches on the drinks and sets a shot in front of Judy. “Ready Carrots?”
“Yep,” she says before picking up her glass.
“Cheers,” Nick says before clinking them together. After setting the empty glass down, he says, “God it's been a minute since I had one of these. Not bad.”
Judy nods. “My sister got me one when I turned 21. I tend to get them for people's birthdays now too.”
“Not a bad birthday shot. A little more dignified than a Blowjob for sure,” Nick says.
Judy blushes again. “Yeah. I've definitely been subjected to one of those before.”
Nick raises his brows with interest. “Now that's dirty, Carrots.”
“Hey it's just a drink,” she says.
“Uh huh. Another sister?” he asks.
“A brother, actually.”
“Interesting. That's really interesting. How many siblings do you have, anyways?” he asks.
“I'll tell you if you promise not to make a joke about it,” she says.
“Scout’s honor,” Nick says with a salute.
“Har har. It's 328,” she says.
“Holy shit. I'm an only child. I can't even imagine.”
“Yeah it's pretty crazy. My ma told me they shot for 300 but had a few surprises,” she replies.
“28 surprises?” he asks.
“No, litters can be pretty big. Just a few,” Judy replies.
“Huh. The more you know,” Nick says before he busies himself with another glass.
Judy cocks her head to the side at the action and asks, “Why do you wipe glasses that don't really need it?”
“Trade secret. At dives like this it makes mammals more comfortable if it seems like I'm only half listening. Don't worry, I clean them properly later,” Nick says.
“Huh. I don't mind being engaged in conversation with you,” she says.
“How sweet! I don't mind being engaged in conversation with you either, Carrots,” he jests.
Judy shakes her head. “Could I get a glass of water?” she asks.
“Sure thing, Doll.” Nick grabs her a cup of ice water and says, “Let me go check on the boys down here. Be right back.”
Judy nods and says, “Thanks,” before Nick walks away again.
“How are you doing?” Nick asks the tigers.
Marcus pipes up, “I could use another beer.” He finishes the last bit of his first one and slides the glass across the bar.
“Anything for you, Allan?” Nick asks as he pours Marcus his drink.
“One more for me too,” Allan says.
Nick sets a beer in front of Marcus and moved to do the same for Allan. Nick offers Allan a wink as he sets the beverage down.
Marcus says, “You better watch out, Nick. If I didn't know you two any better I'd think you were trying to flirt with Allan.”
“Me? Flirt with Allan? I'd never flirt with anyone!” Nick says.
“How's that bullshit smell, Nicholas?” Allan asks.
“Pretty ripe. Anything else?” Nick asks.
Allan makes brief eye contact with Marcus before saying, “No we’re good. Can I close my tab?” he asks.
“Absolutely. Be right back,” Nick says.
Nick heads to the register, adds a couple beers to the tab and closes it. He heads back to the tigers and passes the ID, card, a pen and receipts to Allan.
“Anything else boys?” Nick asks.
“No Nick, you're perfect,” Alan says. “Go back to your honey bunny over there. I'm not afraid to yell if I need you.”
Marcus interjects, “We’ll just politely walk over to get your attention.”
“No, Allan is going to yell. We all know that. Don't kid yourself, Marcus,” Nick says.
Marcus sighs. “A man can dream,” he says wistfully.
“C’mon, you love it,” Allan says.
“I love you. I do not love drawing attention to ourselves,” Marcus says.
“Aw! Babe! I love you too!” Allan says.
“Okay. I'm gonna leave before I hurl. Have a good night. See you soon?” Nick asks.
Marcus nods. “Yeah. We should be back next week,” he says.
“Cool. See you then!” Nick says before taking off towards Judy again.
“You know Fangmeyer?” Judy asks.
“Marcus? Kind of. Allan and I go way back, but Marcus is pretty new. They've been together a couple years now I think but we’re not super close. Why? How do you know him?” Nick asks.
“He's an officer,” Judy says.
“Ah. I didn't even know that,” Nick admits. “I just knew he worked for the government.”
“Hm. Is this place always this dead?” Judy asks.
“Do you think I'd have a job if it was, Carrots?” Nick retorts.
“No… probably not.”
“Just before midnight on a Wednesday isn't exactly prime time here at Leo’s. I sent my server home around nine. We get a few people in for some food or an after dinner drink, but not many mammals stay this late on Wednesday. A lot of them head down the road for a slam poetry night if you can believe it or not,” Nick says.
“Ah. I guess I picked the wrong night to try and meet new people, huh?” Judy asks.
“Oh probably. I don't know, though. You met me.”
Judy blushes again. Nick can't tell how much of that is spurred on by the alcohol intake, but he can't help but wonder, Is she into me??
Judy takes a beat before speaking again, “That's true. But isn't it your job to talk to me?”
“Sort of. There's nothing in my job description that says I have to.”
“But you know I probably wouldn't tip you well if you didn't,” she claims.
“Well, yeah. I do what I can to earn a good tip. When it's slow like this I really do love talking to people, though. Especially if they're c-- uh-- Carrots, what is it with you and the cute thing anyways?” he asks.
“You probably didn't know, but it's okay when a bunny calls another bunny cute, but when other mammals do it, it gets a little… difficult,” she says.
“Damn. I wasn't aware that was a big deal. I'm gonna speak in hypotheticals here because now I'm curious. What if the other mammal in question was really into the bunny, and they started dating. What happens in that scenario?” Nick asks.
“Hm. I don't know. I don't know many bunnies who date outside species lines. I'm sure it would depend on the bunny,” Judy replies thoughtfully.
“What if it was you?” Nick asks.
“Nick, are you implying something?”
“Nope. Just curious,” he says.
“Oh. I don't know. I think if me and this hypothetical mammal were in private it'd be fine.”
Interesting. I almost think she sounded disappointed there, Nick ponders for a second. The tod crosses his arms and says, “Alright. Good to know, Carrots.”
“Hm. Could I get a Bloody Mary?” she asks.
Nick nods and says, “Yeah, of course.” Nick gets to work on her drink. He even adds an extra celery stalk for her. After he serves her, Nick clears up the glasses the tigers left behind. He takes a risk and changes the music from grunge rock to a 70s station. Nick was infatuated with the 70s. Between the gaudy fashion, the wonderful music and other pop culture trends, he felt like he was born in the wrong decade sometimes.
Nick makes his way back over to Judy as a funk number is ending. “I'm highly doubting anyone is coming in for this last half hour. Hope you don't mind the change in ambiance,” he says.
“No, no. Disco trash is fine by me,” Judy says.
Nick gasps. “ Carrots. This is not trash. The seventies were awesome.”
“Wow. You sure are older than you look,” Judy comments.
Nick smirks and says, “Very funny. I was born in ‘84. I just have a penchant for the decade, okay?”
“I guess that explains the ugly Pawaiian shirt,” she teases.
Nick pretends to pout and says, “It's not ugly. It's fashion.”
“Sure it is.”
“Says the bunny in a flannel. I'd assume you were a lesbian if I didn't know you were a country girl,” he teases.
“Nothing wrong with being a lesbian,” she says.
“Oh hell no. Lesbians are awesome.”
“Ugh. Stereotypical straight man,” she replies.
“Not straight, Carrots. Try again. I honestly think lesbians are pretty cool. You can check out chicks with them, throw back some brewskis and they don't hit on you. It's pretty righteous,” Nick says.
“I'm confused. If you're not straight, why are you checking out chicks?”
“Uh, news flash, bisexual mammals are literally everywhere,” he says.
“That's true. So we could check out guys together?” she asks.
“I mean we could. But there's still the factor of you and I possibly hitting on each other. And you don't seem like a beer girl,” he says.
“You'd be surprised. My brother brews it. I've acquired a taste for it.”
“Please tell me you utilize your family name for marketing purposes. That's too perfect.”
“Of course. Hopps Family Farm’s Hoppin’ Mad IPA is one of our crowd favorites,” she boasts.
“Perfect. If I ever find myself in Bunnyburrow, I'll have to give it a try,” he says.
“Or I could just bring some home the next time I visit,” she replies.
Nick leans up against the counter in front of her and asks, “So you want to see this old fox again do you?”
Judy blushes. That's all the confirmation Nick needs. He starts again, “Since you're out this late on a weekday, I’m guessing they've got you on the weekend grind and you've got Thursday off, yeah? Care to join me for some breakfast after I close up? I know this 24 hour diner that's to die for.”
“Hm. I don't know. Are you asking me out?”
“I don’t know, Carrots, am I?”
“Yes. Yes you are,” she decides.