Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

ACT I: "A little over twenty years ago, there was this snail..."

The Rainforest Riviera was as busy as it ever was on a Sunday night. Mammals of all shapes and sizes came to this prestigious place to enjoy its various selection of Rainforest classics as well as the many varieties from the different districts, which lured in animals from even the further districts. The main chef, Gerald, was busy making the food for all of the waiting customers, accompanied by his otter server.

"Onion soup for table six, Sam!" The bell dinged as the burly pig called the otter's attention. 

"Coming, Gerald! When do ya think we'll be finished today?" Asked Sam, adjusting her wide glasses while also putting the soup on her silver platter. 

"Like I tell you every single day, just send ze orders! I'm not a fortune teller!" 

"Okay, okay, Jeez. Pipe it down there, big man. Message received," said Sam, leaving his vicinity to start delivering the order with her usual quickness. The onion soup was being delivered to a lone deer. 

"One onion soup for you, dear! Haha, see what I did there?" 

The deer stayed still looking at her for a second. Sam thought the worst, thinking her joke had fallen under very poor taste and had offended the deer. Soon enough, she got her answer when the mammal started guffawing. "That's hilarious. Thank you, miss." He smelled the soup, and his mouth began to water. "Hmm, this otter be good, am I right? Hahahahaha" 

Sam didn't know whether he was being condescending or genuinely amused. She decided not to dwell on it and just focus on something else.

It had been about a year after the terrible events with the Nighthowlers, as well as her magical night going to the Gazelle concert (Aside from being pulled over by the cops, of course). Due to using her entire life savings for the concert, which she still felt was worth it, she had to cut back on spending and work more hours. Her life at twenty years old was more stressful than she had anticipated, but she had a job and an apartment, so she couldn’t complain too much. Other mammals worked harder for less. 

The orders kept coming. “One shrimp salad for you!” she said to a polar bear family. “Our finest cheese selection,” to a mouse. “Spicy ant tacos!” she said excitedly to the anteater family. Fairly quickly, her shift was nearing its end. Just like that fateful night with the sloths, her shift would end when she finished all of her orders after five in the afternoon. However, she wasn’t in any rush to finish early this time around, so she could take her time making sure every one of her customers were happy and fed.

“Whoo, I am on a roll today, Gerald," said the enthusiastic otter, talking to the cook. "All the tables are set, the customers are happy, and with only a few minutes to spare, I'll be out of here in a jiffy! Today couldn't get any bettah!"

"Don't jinx yourself, Sam. Remember what happened last year?" 

"All water under the bridge, Gerald.  Lightning can't possibly strike twice on the same pla-" she got interrupted by the sound of the door to the restaurant opening. Her mouth still open, her eyes widened as she slowly turned towards the door. Another customer. 

"See? Jinxed?" Said Gerald, a smile forming on his face. "You better get his order," he told her, handing her the black pocket notepad and pen. She grunted. 

"It's not a sloth this time. I can get his order and it'll be quick and easy. Just you watch," she walked towards the newly arrived mammal, making sure to have her usual greeting grin. 

The customer seemed to be a fennec fox wearing small aviators. She found it weird to see a fox in the Rainforest District of all places, but who was she to judge? Mammals could go whenever they pleased. Maybe this fox was trying something new today. 

"Welcome! I'm Sam, I'll be your waitress for tonight!"

“Hi there,” he said, in a not so jolly way. “Table for one, please.”

“Right this way, sir,” she motioned the fox, sitting him in a small round table fit for his size. He walked slowly towards the table with his head lowered. Sam frowned as she saw the state of the poor fennec. Just what could have happened to him? As soon as he sat down, his head flopped on the table loudly.

“Uhhh, are you okay, sir? Can I start you off with a simple predator-friendly aperitive?” He didn’t answer, his head still pressed up against the hardwood surface. She swore she could see a puddle forming where his face was resting. “W-would a nice bubbly drink fix your mood up a bit?” She tried again.

“Waaaaaa!” he cried out, gaining the attention of everyone else in the establishment, looking worriedly at the tiny fox. Tears were streaming out of his face like a faucet. 

“Sir, please, calm down!” Why me? She thought. She felt bad thinking that. This fox was going through rough times, but did it really have to be with her, at this exact moment, at this hour? Right when her shift was about to end? It wasn’t fair. The world really hated her for some reason.

“She left me, Whiskers!” the fox cried out. “She left me!” 

Whiskers?! No one had ever called her that. She didn’t know what to feel. She couldn’t chew him out! It would make her look like a horrible person for putting down a mammal that was already down to begin with. Just what did she get herself into?

“Who left you?” she asked. Maybe if he let it all out, he could calm down and she could go home in time for the new episode of So You Think you can Prance? 

“My wife!” He pulled out a picture from his pocket and showed her what looked to be a red vixen, sporting red lipstick and black eyeliner on her bulging green eyes, as well as a green Pawaiian blouse. “He-I mean she left me for a bunny! A bunny of all mammals!” He kept audibly crying, causing some of the mammals to be either annoyed or pityingly watching the sad state of the fennec. “We worked together too! When she quit, they saw no fit to have me there by myself so I got fired! Now I’m out of a job-aaahahaaa.” 

Sam didn’t know how he could have any more tears. She could bus the table with them. Her natural instinct of helping everyone got triggered, so with determination she grabbed some napkins from a nearby table and offered them to him. Instead of filling out a cup of water for him as usual, she gave him the entire pitcher. He was not about to dehydrate on her watch. 

“I’m so very sorry that happened to yah, sir,” she said sincerely, her thick Otterlian accent showing. “Here’s some water for you!” The fennec fox looked back at her and then at the pitcher. Without saying anything, he grabbed the pitcher and began sinking the water down his throat, not caring about spilling some of it on the mahogany table. Once again, she didn’t know how the little fennec could gulp down so much water without his stomach exploding, not to mention his poor bladder later. She felt like she should stop him, but didn’t want that poor guy to have more things to grieve over. 

With one last big gulp, he gave a satisfied sigh. “Thank you very much, Whiskers. That helped a lot,” he said thankfully, smiling at her. His brown eyes looked into her green ones intensely, making Sam blush from the long eye contact. With her server’s platter, she shielded her face from looking at him anymore. In this moment, she decided that a little moment of gesture couldn’t be all she did for him. She will make sure that the poor fennec has a lovely night. 

“Would you care for something else?” she asked him.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything to pay you,” he lamented, his eyes back to the wet table. “They didn’t even give me my last paycheck.”

“That’s horrible!” she said. Some of the dining mammals who were listening in also gave disapproving grunts. Sam couldn’t let him go without eating anything, she just couldn’t. “You know what? It’s on the house! Everything you eat today will be free.” The mammals who heard her started clapping for her charitable action. 

“For real?” he asked, a smile growing from ear to ear. Sam couldn’t deny that face. She refrained from objectifying her fellow tiny mammals, but she really could not deny how happy it made her seeing that cute smile. Sam always enjoyed making people happy.

“For real!” she said with confidence. 

“Thank you so much, Whiskers!” he began crying again, but Sam was sure it was from happiness this time. 

“You can call me Sam, Mister,” she told him. “What’s your name?”

Pushing his aviators back into his eyes, the tiny fox replied. “I’m Nick.”

“Alright, Nick, what do you want to start with?” Sam said, now with her notebook and pen on her paws. “I highly recommend the shrimp sticks to start with, they’re to krill for! See what I did there?”

The fennec gave her a heartfelt smile. “The shrimp sticks it is! Thanks again, Sam,” the fennec replied. 

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Nick. Coming right up!

It felt good. It really felt good to help someone. There were many moments in her life where Sam had needed help but never got it, so helping anyone she could came as second nature. She saw good things on that fennec, and there was no way she was gonna leave him in that sorry state. 

"One order of shrimp sticks, please!" Sam told the chef.

"Hey, Sam, we do not serve food for free here! What were you thinking?" Asked the irritated pig. 

"Just take it off my pay, Gerald! That poor fox needs to have a good night, and I'm the only one who's been kind to him the entire day."

"Hey, that fox is probably lying to you, Sam! You know how shifty they can be."

Sam gasped. "I do not want to hear that from you again, Gerald! Such backwards thinking will not be allowed in this judgment-free establishment!"

Gerald gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine, fine, whatever, it’s your salary, not mine. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Shrimp sticks coming right up!”

It was clear to Sam that fennec was now having the time of his life. The restaurant wasn’t just known for its variety. Everything that the skilled cook prepared was delicious. Gerald had once said that one of his customers fainted from the smell alone. She did not believe him, but that’s not to say that the smell wasn’t intoxicating. Just like with the water, the fennec wasn’t shy when it came to eating, having ordered three more plates of shrimp sticks after that, which he devoured as soon as they got to his table.

The fennec hadn’t stopped at that, ordering Gerald’s famous Bug Burger consisting of only the most top of the line and hardest to acquire insects, which made it quite pricey. The fennec also ate it as if he were a wild animal, using the pitcher of water (which she had already refilled twice) in between bites. Minutes later, he was ordering a breaded salmon. She looked at the steadily emptied chairs as the customers left satisfied, the fennec still eating. Along came the dessert, in which he ordered a caramel flan and cookies and cream ice cream. Surely he can’t eat that too, she foolishly thought. As if he were a vacuum, the sweet foods were stored in his belly as soon as they touched the table. The poor fennec must’ve been starving for weeks. 

With those desserts, the fennec was done, and now it was time to check on his ta-

“ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY BUCKS?!”

“And twenty more bucks in tips!” Said Gerald. “How generous of him, hahahaha!”

“This is more than I make in a day!” Sam depressively stated. She would be lucky if she managed to get a hundred bucks per day. 

“Guess this entire day you worked for free, huh?” mocked Gerald.

“Grrrrr,” she growled, but quickly calmed herself. She remembered this was for a good cause. “You know what, Gerald? It doesn’t matter. That fennec is now walking out of here a happy guy.”

As if on cue, she heard him sobbing loudly on his table. Thanks to her quick service, everyone else had left for the night except for the sad fennec. 

“W-what’s wrong now?” the otter asked fearfully. She wanted him to be happy, but another order would be a hard blow to her already diminished salary. 

“You’ve just been so nice to me and I have nothing to offer."

"Oh please, Mr. Nick, you don't have to give me anything," she told him honestly. "Just seeing you smile is enough of a reward."

"Oh. Well, that's great," Nick said timidly. "If that is so, would it be terrible if I asked for another favor?"

"Not at all!" 

The fennec had asked her to drive him home. She accepted without first checking where he lived. Turns out, he had a place in Downtown Zootopia that was only about five miles from where they were. The problem was, Sam's vehicle of choice (the one she could afford) was a measly electric scooter, not to mention it was a vehicle supposed to allocate one small mammal, which made the fennec press up on her body very uncomfortably. She also had to tuck her tail between her legs, maximizing the discomfort. Despite it all, through one of the rearview mirrors, she saw the fox smile brightly, which made her think it was all worth it. 

"Hey, Nick!" She asked him a bit loudly, the sound of the scooter almost drowning out her voice. 

"Yeah?"

"Did your wife actually leave you for a rabbit? I've never heard of a fox being with a rabbit before." 

"You better believe it, Whiskers. That traitorous vixen said she wanted a better life with him. As if she could have a better life than the one we had! We were great together! Yeah, we did odd jobs and stuff, and sometimes we fought, but it wasn't enough to warrant her leaving me!"

The fox let out a few more expletives about the vixen and then became silent again, focused on the sights of Savanna Central. "You know, Sam, I think you're the nicest person I've met today."

This warmed the female otter's heart even more. "Aww, thanks Nick. You didn't deserve everything that happened to you."

"Thanks." The fox said, not crying this time, but with a melancholic expression. Without thinking, he rested his head on Sam's back. His long ears were grazing Sam's brown-furred neck, distracting her even more.

"Pull over right here," after a few more minutes, they arrived at a complex of apartments. They were all four-story buildings. Sam shut off the engine of her scooter and let the little fox get off. 

"Are you sure you don't need anything else? Do you need me to make you something? I may not look it, but I make a mean green island tea, heheheh," You're embarrassing yourself, Sam, she thought to herself. 

"No, thanks, Sam, you've done more than enough. You've made this fox's day a little more bearable, and I appreciate it." The fox smiled at her, making her heart flutter.

“It was my unending pleasure,” she said softly, a hand on her heart. “Do you have any ideas about finding a job?” she asked him in concern.

“I have some friends that can help me out a bit. I think I’ll pull through,” the fennec said hopefully. 

“Okay. Oh, hold on a sec,” she got out a piece of paper and a pencil from her bag. Writing something on it, she handed it to the small fox. “If anything comes up and you need my help, don’t hesitate to call me.”

The fennec fox could see she had written her phone number and deliberately given it to him. He looked at her shockingly. “A-are you sure I should have this?”

“Of course. Remember, don’t hesitate, okay?” The fox nodded. Satisfied with herself, she made her way back to the scooter, until some alien thought sneaked its way into her brain, making her turn back to the fox. “Here’s my last gift to you.”

Sam didn’t know why she had done it. It had been an impulsive decision. One her mind couldn’t escape from. Kneeling a little bit to be on the fennec’s eye level, she gave him a small peck in the cheek, shocking the small fennec. As quickly as she came in contact with his cream-colored skin, she let go of it with the same intensity. 

‘H-hang in there, okay?” she managed to say, before making a one-eighty degree turn that made her dizzy, getting on her scooter just as suddenly. Turning on the engine, she made her way back home. Stupid stupid stupid!, she thought. You freaking kissed him? Seriously? You probably freaked the poor guy out! Are you insane? Those were her mind’s machinations until she had reached her home back at the Rainforest. Heat had never left her cheeks, still embarrassed by that awful action.

Sam’s home was a small apartment, the one place she could afford with her monthly salary. Despite being a little abode, Sam had no complaints about it. It was large enough to keep her electric scooter by one corner and still have a bed, bathroom, and kitchen. Not to mention the terrific views of the Zootopia Bullet Train as it passed by every morning without fail. She also loved sleeping to the constant rain of the district, making her feel like she was back in her native country. 

But Sam was not comfortable. At least, not at the moment. She was still thinking about that kiss. It was nothing, Sam. He probably thought you were being nice, that’s all. Don’t go too crazy over it.

“It was just a kiss,” she told herself, closing her eyes and breathing deeply as she sat on her couch. “Just a normal, formal, person-you-first-met-kiss. Ugh, who am I kidding?” She slouched against the couch, distressed. After a few minutes in the first position, Sam thought of something else.

“Wait a second!” She got up from the couch. It seemed like an eureka moment had fallen on her brain. “I didn’t ask for his number!”

Sam sat back down, dejected. There was no way he would ever call her. 

Until the sound of a notification rang on her phone. It was a message from an unknown number. 

The fox waited until she could no longer see the otter in the distance and went the other way. Obviously, he didn’t have a home. His private residence was still his red van, which he had shared with the traitor right before he left him. It was a few blocks down the street, hidden well enough in an alleyway. He knew the folks in this vicinity wouldn’t try to do anything to it, so he felt safe enough leaving it there. In a few minutes, he was there. 

His baby. An orange-red van with a paint job of his favorite album cover from his favorite band. Pulling his keys from his pocket, the fennec opened the double doors of the back of his van, going inside with gusto. At this point, he couldn’t handle it anymore, letting out the fit of laughter he was holding. 

“AAAhahahahahahaaaaa. What a dumb otter, hahahahahahahahahahaha.” The fit went on for a few minutes until the fox let out tears of laughter. It had all been too easy. “Nick, you’re missing out, man, hahahahahahaha,” he talked to the spot where Nick used to sleep whenever they were done hustling too late at night. 

“What are you laughing about, Uncle Fin?” asked a smiling arctic fox in the driver’s seat, scaring the fennec.

“Ahhhhh! Greg? What in all the fox hell are you still doing here?”

The arctic fox in his 20s smiled politely. “I just thought I’d guard the van for you, Uncle! A lot of bad mammals are out in these parts.”

“I told ya to go home! I’ve been gone for like three hours!”

“Frankly, I thought you weren’t coming back today. Anyway, what were you laughing about? Something about a dumb otter?”

Greg was not Finnick’s nephew. He had been abandoned by his parents as a pup and was alone ever since. They tried to get him in the foster system, but he escaped all of the Child Service mammals, preferring life in the streets. Despite his terrible past, he managed to maintain a wholesome and carefree mentality, something that still puzzled the older fox. Either way, he and Nick met Greg a couple of years ago when he was about fourteen years old, and they had helped him earn enough money to get a place to live, which he still had today. Due to being the only mammals who ever cared for him like that, he ended up calling them uncles, something Finnick was always against, but no matter how much he threatened him, Greg just kept on doing it, so Finnick decided to just let it go. Greg started working solo years later, but since Nick decided to ditch Finnick, he recruited Greg back to help him. 

“Eh, it’s nothing. Just this dumb otter server at the RR,” said Finnick. “Anyway, since you’re here, take this.” He took out two shrimp sticks from his pocket, giving one of them to him. “Bon appetit.”

“Alright!” Greg said, gulping down the shrimp in one bite. “Man, this shrimp stick is awesome. How much did it cost?”

“That’s the thing, Greg. Absolutely nothing!” the fennec said with a smile.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Greg asked with interest. 

“I gave this otter server a sob story about my wife leaving me and me losing my job, and she believed it! I even pulled this picture of Nick in a dress and she totally thought he was a vixen!” Another fit of laughter entered the fennec, but he calmed down to finish the story. “I ordered so much food I almost blew up from how full I was. Then, she even took me here in her electric scooter.”

“Whoah, really?”

“Yeah. And the craziest part? She gave me her number, and even kissed me!”

“Wait, what?!” This time, the arctic fox became alarmed at that statement. “Uncle, you have to call her and tell her the truth!”

To this, the fennec became confused. “Greg, what the heck do you mean call her back? I’m not gonna confess anything!”

“I would’ve been fine with you hustling her for money, but have her fall for you thinking you’re a different person? That’s a whole new low, man!”

“Why do you even care about this, Greg?”

“Because you can’t play with a lady’s heart like that, Uncle,” the arctic fox said. 

Finnick sighed. Ever since the arctic fox became infatuated with an arctic vixen (who rejected him multiple times), he became a total gentleman, preferring not to hustle women whenever he had the chance. He still did it on occasion, but never too harshly. “If it makes you feel better, it was only on the cheek.”

“What was on the cheek?”

“The kiss!”

“It doesn’t matter where the kiss was! A kiss is still a kiss!” 

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter! If she even liked me, she would’ve asked for my number but she didn’t!”

“Oh, Uncle, you’re not as smart as I thought. Obviously, she wants you to call her first! Duh! I don’t even know why I have to tell you that.”

“Oh, can it, Greg! I don’t see you with any girls around you.”

“I’m working on it! I have a system--”

“A system that fails,” Finnick retorted, sighing. “Just go home. We’ll talk in the morning, alright.”

The yellowish brown fox made an exasperated sigh. “Haven’t you ever thought of settling down with a good girl.”

“Sure as heck not with an otter, Greg. Just drop it and go home.”

“Fine. At least thank her for the meal in a text or something!” he said, opening the car door to leave. “It’s the least you could do,” he whispered, but it was enough for Finnick to hear it. 

That last comment actually got him thinking. Had he really been that big of an asshole to that otter? Yes. She had been nothing but nice, even paying money for someone she had only just met. You’re an ass. She totally believed he was a down on his luck fox that didn’t deserve anything that happened to him. You deserve that and more.

“Okay I get it!” he said to no one in particular. Greg had a way of getting into your head. Now all he thought was how happy Sam must be feeling, believing the crazy lies Finnick had told her. Searching in his pocket, he found the piece of paper that belonged to the girl. He could smell a hint of seawater and lime perfume. The number was (555)-694-4934. “I’m gonna regret this so much,” he told himself. 

Saving the number in his contacts, Finnick tapped the message button. He wrote:

Thanks again! We otter meet sometime! ;)

“Wait, why the fuck did I say I want to meet her?!” The fox scrambled to delete the message, but it had been too late. The little checkmark at the bottom indicated she had read it.

“I’m gonna kill Greg tomorrow,” he said with determination, burying his face in a pillow and screaming into it. 

Chapter Text

"Huh?"

She took a beat, inspecting the phone and reading the message, then putting it back down. Her eyes were wide and she couldn't believe what she had read. She looked at the phone again, then put it back down. She repeated that action two or three more times before finally breaking the cycle by getting up from her couch and getting ready for her nightly bath. Taking off her server clothes, she put them on her laundry basket and began filling her tub with cold water. When it was ready, she shut off the valve and went in. 

She began thinking of how she could keep going on the conversation. She didn't expect the fox to reply so fast, or even reply at all! She moved her tail up and down in the water, thinking. She was always most relaxed in the water, being an otter and all. Taking her glasses off, she submerged her whole body, making the thinking easier. 

Does he really mean that?, she thought. Does he actually want to meet again? She had no idea if she would accept. The kiss had been so embarrassing, and seeing him again would probably trigger more embarrassment. 

But…there was something about him. Something that Sam couldn't help but be interested in. She wasn't one for many relationships, living alone and working most of the time. She never allowed herself any time off because she just never had enough money to excuse a free day. Maybe hanging out with the fox could be a good excuse for getting out of her job for at least a day. 

She was entertaining the idea, but opted to not accept his proposition to meet just yet. She wanted to know more about him. Going back to the surface, she dried her paws with the nearby towel and began tapping away on her phone. Firstly, she saved his phone number on her Contacts, which was (555)-191-1315, saving his name as Nick. With a few more taps, she began typing her message. 

 The otter wasn't responding.

Finnick let out a sigh of relief. His subconscious had decided to ask them to meet, and that was something that he definitely didn't want to do. An unspoken rule about hustlers is to never meet the person you hustled, especially if that person thinks you're someone you're not. He just wanted to thank her and that was it. With the otter texting back seemingly unlikely, the fox released the tension he had stored.

"Wait a sec, why am I so nervous about a chick texting me?" He asked himself. It's probably the kiss.  

Yeah. The kiss. The one thing he actually didn't have any control over and was a complete surprise. He never would've expected her to do something like that, especially to someone like him. He thought if she was always like that, getting taken advantage of by anyone she met. Finnick was no saint, but the thought of Sam getting hustled multiple times didn't bring him any comfort, despite also partly thinking it was pretty funny. 

Greg's talk about settling down had opened his eyes. Most fennec foxes had a family by the time they were in their 20s, mostly because of their instinctual predisposition to find a mate. For Finnick, that predisposition had never come. He wondered if it was because of his many shortcomings (no pun intended), whether it was his previous love partners or just his life in general, which hadn't been happy colors and rainbows whatsoever. He envied Greg for still looking so happy despite arguably having one of the hardest lives a mammal could have.

Deciding not to dwell on it anymore, the fox decided to go to bed, his massive meal now making him sleepy in the late hours of the night. Like he did every night, he stripped himself to just his briefs and snuggled up on his makeshift bed made up of overly long pillows typically used by larger mammals, like elephants. As he did every night, he opened his phone again and began coursing through his social media feed. He followed nobody, but it was always good to keep up with the world.

It was always the same. Stupid food recipes, crazy challenges that teenagers invented, people fighting over whether a vixen was wearing a yellow or blue dress. Finnick despised most of that. It cluttered his page and served no purpose other than to distract people from the important news. Like the story of how a kit was found after everyone thought he had died, or the story of corrupt politicians who had been given their just desserts. Finnick was all about happy endings, despite his less-than-ideal profession.

“Great. Look who’s in the news,” said the fox to himself, a bitterness in his words. He had found an article containing a picture of his ex-best friend, now a traitor. Alongside his picture stood enemy #1 of the predator community: Judy Hopps. At least that’s what she was for the few months where she condemned every predator to be hated even more than they already were. Thankfully, she fixed her own mess, but the damage was already done. Predator opinions got better, yes, but they also weren’t exactly the same as how they were before the Bellwether crisis. The media article he was in was a praiseful one, at least.

Double Trouble!

by Rodrick Lapin

Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps (pictured above, left to right), have only been police officers for about a year, but have already become the most popular police duo in the entire city, and it’s by no small feat. After successfully bringing down Bellwether’s Night Howler madness from last year, life has been nothing but up for these two rookies. Another unbelievable but true fact is that Officer Wilde was a civilian during his collaboration in the investigation, which jump started his career immensely, and in a matter of a few months, the Hopps-Wilde team was formed. Their insane feats didn’t stop at Bellwether, they also managed to take down a corrupt media conglomerate selling Night Howlers in the side. The fight was long and arduous, but their evidence proved i-

Finnick skimmed a few parts of the article, bored and annoyed at the praise this writer was giving to them. If only they knew what their precious fox cop used to do for a living, they wouldn’t be so proud of him. His eyes widened at one part of the article.

We had the pleasure of interviewing both Hopps and Wilde in this exclusive interview for the Zootopia Tribune:

Interviewer: This question is for Wilde. What would you say is the hardest part of the job for you?

Wilde: Oh, it’s surprisingly very easy, Rodrick. Yes, it doesn’t come without its hurdles, like some of the insults they throw at me, either for being a fox or for being a cop. Sometimes it’s for being both, haha. Throughout my life, I’ve learned to take those insults in stride. I was hurt a long time ago, and I don’t feel like anything has come close to that, but despite some mammals’ disdain of me, me and everyone at the ZPD will do everything we can to protect them.

I: Amazing answer, Officer Wilde. Next question goes to Officer Hopps. You’ve been praised for being a very impressive officer who could do anything, even take down lions in sparring sessions. Is there anything you find difficult to do?

Hopps: There’s actually many things I can’t do, Rodrick. For one, I hate cooking. Everything that gets made by my hands is bound to get burned, hahaha. But if we’re being serious, interrogations don’t come as easily for me. I’m the type to chase and capture the perp, and Nick is the talker. I would also like to say it took me a long while until I was able to even hurt a mammal larger than myself. It took lots and lots of practice that not every bunny could go through.

I: Ah, so you consider practice and perseverance your most predominant quality?

H: Do I consider it? Yes, yes I do.

I: Moving on, this next question goes back to Wilde. What would you say was your biggest motivator for becoming a cop?

W: Definitely not the pay, if we’re being honest here. I was not a particularly lawful citizen before becoming a cop. I did many things I would consider shifty, and people never really trusted me. I saw no reason to be anything else than a lowlife. Even so, I didn’t join the force to prove them wrong or anything; as I mentioned before, I took those insults in stride. My true reason for being a cop is the mammal a few feet to my left, taking this interview with me. She saw more in me than anyone else ever had, and was also the first to offer me the job as her partner. What kind of mammal would I be if I didn’t accept?

That was enough. Finnick shut off his phone, blackening the screen. He was pissed again, remembering the fox who had left him behind. Everyone happily pranced around overjoyed that a fox had become a cop except for him. Why’d that rabbit have to go and choose Nick of all mammals? They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that mistake led to him being more alone than ever. 

As he was about to close his eyes to go to sleep, his phone gave a lion roar, which was his customized notification ringtone. It was a message from (555)-694-4934.

“Oh my god,” he sighed, opening the message. He was in too deep now, and he didn’t think he would find a safe way out of this hole he had dug himself in. Maybe he should’ve paid for the meal like a normal animal.

She decided to go for a playful tone: 

                                                          Wow, you already messaged me? That was quick :0 

                                                          Are you okay?

She didn’t want to be too playful. Maybe he tapped the wrong letters and doesn’t actually want to meet. Maybe he was too shy to ask for her help again. She stopped her thinking when she saw the three dots at the bottom of the screen indicating that he was typing. 

“Sorry, that joke was out of taste,” he typed. “Also, yeah, im ok.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she started saying. “I’m used to those jokes. Besides, I think they’re funny xD *otter emoji*. Glad you’re okay, though. Have you talked to someone about a job yet?” 

This time, he didn’t take that long to answer. “Not yet. I think I’m gonna sleep on it and then decide what I’m gonna do.”

“That’s fine. Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it. Just maybe tone down your eating habits lel”

Oh no, what if he thinks I’m being passive-aggressive? she thought. She did want to help him, but she needed the money as well, so it was only fair.

“Yeah…sorry about that,” he said. “It was my first decent meal in a week. I didn’t know it was so expensive.”

“It’s okay, I get it. Maybe next time I could cook something for ya.” Smooth, Sam. Very smooth, she thought while blushing. 

“That sounds like somethin. We could def do that someday. We could cook for each other.” That proposition was not uninviting in the slightest. 

“Oh, hey listen, about that kiss,” she started typing. She had to bring it up or she wouldn’t be able to sleep. “It wasn’t that big a deal, it’s an otter thing. We like to hug and kiss mammals when they’re down.”

It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a total lie either. Most otters were only comfortable hugging and kissing members of their own species. Unless they were very close friends, it was almost unheard of to hug or kiss someone who wasn’t an otter, which made her action even rarer. 

“Well, then, guess that means you owe me a hug ;)”

She had to submerge herself again and scream as she read that message. 

…

On the other side of the screen stood the fennec fox, unable to stop messaging and flirting with the otter he had just hustled. He was breaking every single unspoken rule of hustling and he didn’t like it. He could just block the number. He could just stop texting. He could just go to bed. But somehow, none of those seemed as entertaining or as important as texting Sam the Otter. 

“What the heck am I doing?” he told himself. “Why am I flirting with this sow?!” By all accounts, it really shouldn’t happen. Finnick never messaged girls, he just met them at random parties, had his fun, and then left. It was all so bizarre. He focused on his phone again, seeing that Sam was beginning to write again.

"That will only happen if you serve the best meal an otter could ask. When should we meet?”

He scared himself by how fast he began to text, knowing exactly what to reply to her. 

“A week from today will be nice. See you then, Whiskers.”

A faint hint of a smile appeared on his muzzle. He’ll give this a go. Maybe something interesting will come from it.

“Today’s the day,” said an arctic fox, waking up in the darkness of his room, the only light being a soft glimmer from his curtained window. “Today’s the day she doesn’t reject me!”

Gregory Wildkins, a twenty-something-year-old (he won’t say what his actual age is) woke up with that thought in his mind, and it never left. Not even as he dressed in his usual black cargo pants and green cardigan, with his favorite Fox and Roll band t-shirt underneath it. Not even as he brushed his teeth and groomed his tail, as well as trimming his claws. He had to look his best if he wanted to impress her, of course. 

Grabbing a quick meal of eggs and pancakes, the Arctic fox set off into the unknown, dreading what awaited outside of his apartment. Not even two steps out of his home did his first problem encounter him.

“Going somewhere, Ice Man?” asked a middle-aged reindeer. It was his neighbor, a particularly suspicious and paranoid individual who always sought to get dirt on the fox. Granted, he did do questionable stuff, but he didn’t need someone on his tail every time.

“As a matter of fact, yes, Jamie boy, I am.”

“May I ask where?” he said, opening the door of his apartment to look at him better.

“If you must know, this tod has got himself a date tonight!” he said proudly. 

The reindeer laughed for an uncomfortably long time, making Greg frown. “You? A date? Who would go out with a spaz untrustworthy fox like you?”

“You better cut it before I report you for discrimination, man. Besides, don’t you got anything better to do other than spy on me?”

“Oh hold on, let me check my schedule,” he went back to his room for only a moment, coming back instantly. “Nope, sorry. Just gonna annoy you as you walk out of your apartment. Typical Monday morning for me.”

“Hurray,” Greg said drily. “Whatever, Rude-Olph, I’m out of here.”

The reindeer said a few more things he didn’t care to hear and began his descent through the stairs of his apartment complex. Living in one of the coldest parts of Tundratown had its perks. For one, it was cheaper. Even animals that could withstand the cold found this part of town bearable, but for Greg, it was no biggie. He had been homeless practically his whole life and seemed to have developed a stronger resistance to snow. Thanks to both his uncles, he managed to find a good place here and call it his home. Not one minute out of the complex’s elevator did he receive his second problem. 

“Wait a second, Mr. Wildkins!” screamed a senior rabbit at him, calling his attention. “Did ya know next week is the end of the month?”

“Oh, thanks for telling me, Milly! I almost forgot.”

The rabbit massaged her temple, saying some words in a foreign language. “Do you know what happens at the end of every month?”

“We switch months?”

“The pay!”

“Oh, right, yeah yeah yeah, rent, of course, haha,” he facepalms. “I won’t be late this time, I swear! I’ve got a steady day job now!”

“Somehow I doubt that, but you better not fail me again or there will be consequences this time!” Without any more words to say, the doe stormed off. 

“I better pay it. Don’t wanna lose my house. Uncle Fin would go nuts if I did.”

He’d pay for it tomorrow. Right now, he had other plans.

His 1989 red Zoodan was the only thing that his parents had left for him before they abandoned him. A man named Rowan was keeping it with him until he turned eighteen, which, to his reluctance, he had to agree to take. Despite hating relying on something his sorry excuse for parents gave him, it was very useful to go around, and now that he had good business with his uncle, it was a good way to go around and make errands.

Now it was time to get to his first destination of the day before heading out to work with Fin. It was usual for him to call the fennec, saying he’ll be ready to come to work in a while as soon as he got breakfast and did his morning routine. Curiously, the dial rang, but the fennec never answered the call.

“Huh. Uncle is always awake at this hour. That’s very unusual. Eh, maybe he slept in,” he said, unbothered, as he began to drive to his next location.

Frost Mechanics and Company was a place he loved, and not just because of the great oil change discounts that saved him a lot of money every month. One of the vixens that worked there was the love of his life, and he would one day see himself not getting rejected by her.

As soon as he entered his car into one of the garages of the facility, he was instantly greeted by a chipper arctic vixen. 

“Should’ve known it was you, Greg. No one drives these piece-ah-garbage car anymore,” she said, taking a look at his inherited automobile. Her cheek was covered in a black substance he could only discern to be oil, as well as her blue overall pants that definitely highlighted her curves.

“Hey, Skye, how are ya? Just thought I’d drop by and get an oil change made,” he said, courteously. 

“You just got one done yesterday.”

“Uhhh, extra safety?”

“Hey, it’s your money, dude, I don’t care,” she said, getting her toolbox ready to start working on his car. “How’s Finnick doing? Heard he’s taking it badly after his old partner left. What was his name, Wilde?”

“Yeah. It’s been rough. I don’t blame Uncle Nick for wanting to pursue a better life and all that, but Finnick didn’t see it that way at all. Nowadays, he’s pretty bitter about it and doesn’t even want to talk about him. This is weird because he still has Nick’s bed made like an altar in there. Maybe he’s waiting for Uncle Nick to be back or something. I feel pretty bad for him, Sk-” he stopped talking as he witnessed the arctic vixen with headphones. He sighed, getting out of the car to let her work on it. “Hey, where’s your sister?” he asked her.

“Johnny Lister?!” she asked loudly.

“Your sister!” he said again, this time understood by the vixen, who pointed at a nearby office.

 Taking a deep breath, the fox strolled to the door with determination, opening it with the same confident aura, only for it to be washed away completely as he looked at her. Skye’s older sister. The cutest vixen he had ever laid eyes upon. She was wearing blue overalls just like her sister, but one of the straps fell to the side, giving her a more appealing and seductive appearance, which Greg didn’t hate at all.

“If you have complaint, sir, tell it to my sister,” the other vixen said, in her thick Foxden accent, sitting down at the office enjoying a breakfast fish sandwich. “I’m on break and hungry. You do not want hangry Himmel.”

“H-hey, Himmy! It’s just me, Greg! Remember me?”

The vixen looked back at him and squinted her eyes, pondering where she had seen him before. “Ohh, it is Finnick annoying partner,” she said with disinterest.

“Uhh, I would say I’m more of a lovely partner, hehe,” he laughed nervously. His ship was sinking. It didn’t seem like it had even been afloat. “I-I brought you some flowers! I heard you get a lot of orchids out in Foxden,” he told her, putting the flower bunch atop her desk. 

“Orchids mean death in Foxden, Finnick partner,” she told him with a serious voice.

“What? No, no, I-I looked it up, it’s a symbol of grace.”

“You think you know more about country of birth than Himmel? Huh?” she got up threateningly, going over to Greg with malicious intent.

“N-no, I-I don’t!” Greg said panicking, covering his face for the possible beating he was going to receive. But it never came.

Instead, the vixen wheezed. Very cutely. “Heeeahahahaaa, you actually thought I was gonna hit you, hahahahaha, you funny, foxy. You funny.”

Greg didn’t find the humor in it, but her smile and laugh made up for it, making him blush even more. “S-so, you like the orchids?”

“Oh yeah, they’re cute, I’ll put them in pile,” she said, opening a cabinet that showcased many other orchids, possibly from other animals that had fallen for her beauty. “Name is Greg, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I…told you my name like a month ago. Remember? We went out for drinks, the four of us?”

“Himmel drink like a beast. Barely remember that night,” she said, sitting back down and eating her sandwich.

“And then we met up a few more times? I kept asking if you’d go out with me?”

“Are you asking again?” she asked him expectantly. It seemed like she was curious to hear his answer.

“Yes,” he answered with determination. “Would you, Himmel Frost, please go out with me?”

“Nah.”

His confidence fell flat on his face. “B-but why?”

“Hey, Greggers, your car is re-” said Skye, barging into the office, stopping suddenly on her tracks. “Wait a second, are you hitting on my sister again? You know she’s rejected you, like, ten times already right?”

“It was only three!”

“Well, make it four, cuz there’s no way-”

“Already said no, Skye, you’re late,” said Himmel.

“Wow,” she said, her eyes wide. “You were only here for like three minutes, you botched it that bad?”

Greg sighed. “Just gimme the keys,” he said, facing downward. She held them up for him, which he grabbed on his way out. 

He was about to turn on the ignition when he got stopped by Skye. “Hey, Greg. Don’t feel too bad about it. She rejects everyone, ya know? She’s just not one to settle down.”

“It’s…not because of me, or my job?” he said, gripping the steering wheel.

“Nah…you’re a pretty cute fox. She’s just not interested in anybody after her last relationship. Wasn’t good for her, you get me?”

“You really think I’m cute?”

“Course you are. I might be many things but I’m not a liar. You’ll find someone for ya out there. Someday.”

“Thanks, Skye,” he said, turning on the ignition with a smile.

“Anything for my best customer. At this point, you’ll be putting my future kits in college, if I have any, that is.”

“Hey, mind if I ask, how come you never get hit on? I mean, you and Himmel are twins.”

“We’re different enough to be distinguished from each other. You know that much. The other part is probably this.” She took one of her paws out of her pockets, showing him a bright and shiny ring on one of her fingers. 

Greg gasped at the new discovery. “How come you never told me?”

“I don’t tell just anybody I’m married. Besides, it’s pretty easy to miss, being an all-white ring and all. When someone does hit on me, I just show them this, and they leave as soon as they arrive.”

“Wow. Here I thought you were dedicated to this job and nothing else.”

“It’s all it is, Greg. A job. Wouldn’t be worth it coming home every day to nothing. No offense.”

“None taken,” he said. He had gained a different view of both Skye and Himmel that day. Maybe it hadn’t been such a waste.

…

Uncle Fin was not picking up. It was understandable at the early hours of the morning, but he never slept in that late. Something wrong had happened. Maybe he went against the Pawpers gang all by himself again. He never cared about his own safety anywhere he went, and it had seemed to get worse after Nick left.

“Finnick, you better be sleeping right now! Don’t scare me like this!” he screamed as he sped up through the calm streets of Downtown, taking every alley and shortcut he knew to get to the fennec as fast as possible. Finnick didn’t like hearing it, but Greg loved him like an actual uncle, or even a father. If something happened to him, he wouldn’t know what to do.

He arrived at the alley where the van was parked and got out the spare keys for the back door, inserting the key and opening it with a rush. When he looked in…

“You’re alive!” said Greg, hugging his deeply asleep uncle, who had been awakened by the sudden ruckus that he caused.

“Whut the hell do you mean, Greg?” Finnick asked, still half-asleep. 

“You scared the heck outta me! You never sleep past ten!”

“Can’t I break routine once in a while?”

“You never break routine!”

“Okay, fine, fine. I did what you said. I thanked her for the meal…and then we kept talking. A lot.”

Greg smiled. “Well well well am I hearing that right? Did Uncle Fin just listen to me? The most stubborn fox in the world?”

“Don’t overplay it, I still didn’t tell her who I really was.”

Greg stopped smiling. “You what?”

“Relax, relax. I’m gonna meet up with her in a week and then I’ll tell her. I swear.”

“Cross your heart?” Greg asked, crossing his arms.

“Heart crossed,” said Finnick, drawing an X on his chest. 

“Hmmm, fine. Wait a second, you’re going on a date with her?!”

“I wouldn’t call it a date. We’re just gonna cook for each other. You know, as thanks for letting me eat for free.”

“Uncle…” Greg started saying as he began massaging his temple. “Are you going to tell her the truth before or after you cook for her?”

To this, the fennec had no response. If he told her as soon as he saw her, she’d most likely slap him and curse him out before leaving forever. If he told her after, she’d throw the leftovers on his face before slapping him and leaving forever. It was a Lose-Lose.

“I’ll figure it out when I get there,” Finnick said with a smug smile. 

“Why don’t you just tell her now and avoid the embarrassment? I can do it for you if you wa-”

“Don’t touch my phone!” The fennec said, violently taking the phone away from him while also showing his fangs. Surprised was an understatement to how Greg was feeling.

“Uncle…do you actually want to meet her?”

“Hmmh,” the fennec looked away. “These are my private matters, not yours.”

“Okay, fine, fine. Anyways, what do you want to do today?”

A lion roar sound came from Finnick’s phone, which he checked almost instantly. “How about we take the day off today, Greg?”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah. just…go home for the day, you’re dismissed.”

“B-but…”

“Shut the doors on your way out,” Finnick said, before checking his phone and typing it at lightning speeds. 

“Ugh. Okay, I guess. Whatever you say. I just hope you know what you’re doing.” With that statement implanted into the fennec’s brain, the arctic fox turned to leave, wondering what he was going to do for the rest of the day. 

One Week Later

He hadn’t done anything that day. After being forcefully driven out of the van by his grumpy uncle, the poor fox had done absolutely nothing the past week. Finnick had called it off. Said it was a week of healing, and that next week they’ll come back stronger than ever. He had good evidence to believe that was all a complete lie. 

He had to admit that part of it was his fault. If only his chivalrous spirit hadn’t awakened to defend the otter he had never met, maybe Finnick would never have unearthed the contents of the phone number. It was as if a box containing every evil in the world had opened, corrupting the fennec. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy, but he’s gotta get his priorities straight. He’s good one day, grumpy the other day, and now he’s in love? I can never read him, even after all these years. Not to mention the fact he’s walking into a bear-sized trap with that otter. I’ve never heard of any other hustlers that have successfully hooked up with a previous victim of theirs. That otter would have to be the most naive mammal ever. Anyway, sorry for all this venting. You’re a good listener, Robbie,” Greg said to the stuffed plushie of an arctic fox directly in front of him. It had been a gag gift from Nick, but he actually ended up liking it, giving him a name and serving as his shoulder to cry on every night. “Anyway, let’s get to work shall we?”

Having not been able to find any work the past week, the arctic tod had to resort to his old hustles, way before he had met Nick and Finnick. With a big mound of trash that he had gathered this morning, the fox on the roof began dropping it down into one of the gutters of a random apartment building. The gig was easy: Drop a lot of trash into the gutter until it clogged, and then pass off as a domicile worker who would kindly do it for a lower price than how the usual gutter uncloggers would rate. He didn’t know what they were actually called. 

By some deal of destiny (and some of his famous bad luck), a baseball coming out of one of the trash bags bounced on the ground, hitting the fox straight in the snout. “Ow!” he exclaimed. 

The already uneven roof coupled with the snow from Tundratown made the dizzy fox not able to find his footing, making him struggle to stay up for a few seconds, until finally he went down face first into the gutter. “Aaaaaaagh!” he screamed, hitting the pile of trash he had thrown out. He could see the food he had eaten last time, as well as the other recently eaten meals from the other tenants at his apartment. 

“Help! Somebody! I’m trapped!” This is what you get, Greg, he thought. This is what you get for taking advantage of good people. This is why your parents left you. This is why Himmel will never love you. This is why-

“Hello? Is somebody there?” asked a voice outside of the gutter. Now more calm, Greg could see that the hole was fairly covered, but reachable if the person outside could just help.

“Yes! I’m here! In the gutter, please!”

“Oh my god, hold on!”

He couldn’t see her face, but it was clear that the mammal knew how to dig, expertly getting trash out of the gutter by the second. In just a few minutes, he could see some light, and the mammal’s face. 

“I got you!” said the girl, who was somehow able to pull him out by grabbing his shirt. He felt incredible relief when he felt the ground touch the fur of his back. “Are you okay?” the girl asked. 

“I’m alright,” he said, getting up and dusting himself off. He immediately went to grab the mammal’s paw. “Thank you so much! To whom do I owe the pleasure for my rescue?” He thought about kissing her paw, but he didn’t want to scare the smaller mammal, or get himself a restriction order. 

“Ehehe,” the animal smiled nervously, ready to say her name. “I’m Sam.”

Chapter Text

Monday

In retrospect, it wasn’t a very good idea to start texting the fox in the late hours of the night, and Sam clearly knew that. Not only was she still in the bathroom, but she also needed to sleep early for her next shift at 6:30 am. Caution was thrown to the wind, and Sam had been texting with him for about five hours, culminating their last chat at 3:30 am. 

What had her so enthralled? It was too early to say. The conversations were friendly and lively, but there was no hint of attractions whatsoever (at least not as much), which only attracted her more. Here she was, texting a fox, thinking that he’d want to meet up just to hook up. But in reality, he was asking silly questions, like what was her favorite color, or the earliest memory she could remember. It was very refreshing and calming. Scrambling to go to sleep, the poor otter jumped out of the tub in a panic, clothed herself in her salmon-patterned pajamas, and slept for the three hours that her time allowed.

“Sam!” A loud pig voice echoed in her mind. Funny. What was Gerald doing in her dreams? “Sam, wake up!”

“Whuwhuwhuwhat? I’m awake, I’m awake!”

“Jeez louise, Sam,” said Gerald. 

“How long have I been out?”

“Just in time to get out of your break. What the heck kept you awake last night? Bad dreams? You didn’t count any salmons like I told you last time you had insomnia?”

“No, it wasn’t that,” Sam said. “I just…slept late, that’s it.”

“You don’t just sleep late, Sam. You must’ve had a reason.”

“Ugh, just let me get to work, Gerald. I don’t want to talk about it!” She said, in an angry voice not typical of her.

“Fine, fine, I won’t pry. Just don’t fall asleep on any customers, please.”

“I won’t,” said Sam, gathering her apron from her locker and beginning work. The other server working today was a raccoon, and it was his turn to be relieved on a break. “Cooper, go on break!” she told the mammal, who swiftly took off his apron and ran to the employee rest area. With a sigh, she began reading the orders and waiting on Gerald.

“Two chicken fat Jell-Os for the tigers in Table 2.” 

“On it, Gerald,” she said, getting the smaller plate of Jell-O on her silver platter. Before she went to deliver the order, Gerald touched her shoulder. 

“Hey, Sam. I think you should know that the one who must not be named is here.”

“Huh? I don’t know what you mean, Gerald.”

“Did you forget already? You told me not to never ever say his name in front of you.”

“Oh,” she said, her spine shivering. “Do you know why he’s here?” 

“No idea, but don’t worry. If he gives you hell, I’ll throw him out.”

“Now, now, Gerald, let’s not be rash. It’s been, what, a year since I last saw him? He’s probably changed since then.”

“Alright, if you say so, but the second I see him acting funny, he’s gone.”

“I appreciate that, Gerald. Now, let’s get these hungry tigers some food.”

It was all going swimmingly. After an hour back, there was really nothing to report. She kept on sending orders quickly and keeping each of her customers happy. She still felt a bit drowsy from last night, but she’d make sure to keep herself awake until her shift was over. She tried very hard not to look over to the table containing You-know-who, but it kept getting increasingly hard. She kept wanting to know how they were doing, if they changed their physique somehow, or if they had brought a date, but Sam kept strong, not wanting to give that person the satisfaction.

“Uhhh, Sam?” asked Cooper, who at this point had come back from break. “You’ve been requested at Table 4.”

“Table 4?!” Gerald asked, alarmed. “That’s his table, Sam! You can’t do that.”

Nervousness coursed through her whiskers at that very moment, even reaching the furs at the tip of her tail, but she stood her ground. “It’s alright, Gerald. I’ll just do whatever he wants and get it over with. He’s a customer.”

“But a bad one!” Gerald said, really trying not to scream. Thankfully, the natural chatter of the restaurant was enough to mask his voice.

“It’s very sweet you care a lot about this, Gerald, but it’s okay, I can take it. I’m your best server, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I guess you are. Well, I’ll be paying attention either way. Don’t want him to get any ideas.”

Nodding, Sam took her notepad and silver platter and began making her way toward the accursed Table 4.

“I thought I was your favorite server, Gerald,” said the raccoon, who also looked at Sam going over to the table.

“Stop being lazy then! Bus the empty tables!”

Her heart seemed to beat every second or so. Usually when one was nervous, their heart rate would go up, but for her, it seemed to slow down, like it was her body telling her that a storm was coming and that she needed to prepare or else she’d be swept away. She acted very brave when she talked to Gerald, and even she believed her ruse, but in truth, she was terrified. She thought she had moved on, but it only took one minute for all of the bad memories to start resurfacing. 

Taking a few more steps, Sam unfortunately tripped, dropping her pen in the process. Crawling towards it, she could see someone else had gathered it for her. A brown paw just like hers. It could only belong to one person. Looking up, she found herself being correct.

“You dropped this, miss,” said a male otter, smiling at her. He was wearing an orange T-shirt with the words Otto printed in black. He also sported navy blue sweatpants. To most otters, he’d be considered attractive. But that was all he had. She reluctantly grabbed the pen from his paw.

“Thanks,” she said, forcing a smile. “What would you like to get?”

“Are you on the menu, beautiful? Hahahaha.”

It took all she had not to slap him across the face with the force of a thousand winters, instead just taking a deep breath and putting the menu in his face. “This is all we have, sir.”

“Aww, come on, Xam, what’s with the animosity?”

“It’s Sam, ” she cordially corrected. “You know this.”

“Last I checked, you really loved that nickname,” he told her. 

“Yeah, when we were dating. Now it’s just a dumb name that satisfies your weird obsession. Anyway, can you please just order what you’re gonna order?”

“Like I said, would you become available on the menu again?”

She scoffed, increasingly losing her patience at the persistent mustelid. “I already said no, Max. Please don’t make a scene, just order your food and go.”

“Come on, Sam, can’t we let bygones be bygones? This past year has been especially harsh without my palindromic counterpart,” he said, looking at her with sad eyes, which she knew were faker than flying reindeer. 

“Firstly, that’s not a thing. Second, that’s an extremely horrible thing you tried to do, changing my name to try to fit backwards with your own name. Normal people don’t do that!” Her voice was elevated, and she knew that if it went any higher, she’d be making a scene. This otter just brought so much anger out of her. “And thirdly, that’s a mighty fine way to court someone, asking if they’re ‘back on the menu’ like I’m just some seasonal dish you can get once every year.”

“Come on, I’m at a restaurant, it’s a restaurant joke,” he reasoned. “You used to love my jokes. They were the tenet of our relationship.”

“That is not at all how you use that word in a sentence,” she whispered this time. 

“Tomato, potah-to. Anyway, can’t you at least give me another chance? I promise I’ve changed,” he boasted, lifting his chest higher with his paws on his hips. She didn’t laugh, just frowning at his lame attempts at being goofy. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do that,” she said quietly and sincerely. “Now, please, can you just make my job easy and order actual food?”

He chuckled. “You know, that’s what I like about you, Sam. Even with me annoying the heck out of you, you’re still kind enough to take my order.”

“This isn’t the first nor will it be the last time taking an order from a weird, slash annoying customer. It comes with the job. Now, your order, please?”

The otter looked intensely at her, seemingly thinking of more words to say. Ultimately, he sighed. “Fine. Roasted salmon with tuna chips on the side. Light on the salt.” With his order stated, he slumped on the chair and looked elsewhere, no longer paying attention to her. 

“Ookay then. Coming up.”

Walking back to the kitchen counter to give the order to Gerald felt like it was going in slow motion. This unexpected visit brought her many mixed feelings. Nobody ever expects to meet their ex like that, especially if you have to serve them at a restaurant. She sucked it up and did it, but she still had to do everything in her power not to show weakness in front of him. He was an over and done deal, and she had moved on. 

“Roasted salmon with tuna chips on the side, light on the salt,” she reiterated the order to Gerald in a monotonous voice, a combination of her sleepy self and having to deal with Max.

“What did he want? Did he bother you?" Gerald whispered. While they were many feet away from the otter, he didn’t want to take any chances of being heard. 

“I don’t know if he was serious or not, but he said he wanted to get back together.”

“Oh, what a dirtbag. What did you say?”

“I said no, of course. Kept telling him to just order his food and get it over with.”

“That’s good, Sam. You did good.”

“Man, just look at him,” Cooper said, coming in from the other side with another order. “Who comes to a restaurant with a sports jersey?”

“That’s his normal wardrobe, actually,” Sam told him. “Shows off his physique better, he says.”

“What an ass,” said Cooper and Gerald in unison. 

“I’m hoping that wasn’t a compliment,” she joked. “Anyway, enough gossip, back to work, you two!”

“Hey, Sam, I’m the one who says that!” Gerald said, taking both pieces of paper and starting work on his order. She knew Gerald was a fast worker, but now she wished he could take his sweet time with this one. She just didn’t want to interact with him at all. It made her nauseous to even think about speaking to him again. But she couldn’t back away. This was something she had to do; for her sake and for his. 

“Salmon and chips, Sam,” Gerald said, putting the order on the table for her to take it. With another deep breath, she went back to give him the food. 

“You know, I had this ex once,” Cooper told Gerald, as both of them looked at Sam. “He was crazy, let me tell you. Wouldn’t stop messaging me, and he even knocked at my mom’s door to see if I was there. I dodged a bullet, I tell you.”

“Cooper, just bus the tables, man!” 

Now at Table 4. “Here you go, enjoy your food,” she said as quickly as she approached him, ready to leave him to it. However, he stopped her in her tracks when he suddenly grabbed her forearm with his left paw, making her wince. “Let go of me, Max,” she said with a menacing voice.

“Are you seeing somebody?” he asked her, while also softening his grip on her, slowly letting go. “Is that it?”

“What? No. And if I was, it wouldn’t matter to you or anybody.”

Taking a bite out of the salmon, the agitated otter smiled. “Pretty good. Does that pig cook for you like this every night? Hmm?”

“What?” She asked, more confused than anything. His attitude had turned completely around. It’s like he was waiting to start an outburst from the very beginning. “I don’t know what you’re sa-”

“Or how about that raccoon? Does he pipe you every night?”

“Oh my gosh, dude,” a female bunny on the other table heard him, reacting accordingly. “Like, that’s not cool to say.”

Max didn’t show a sign of hearing that, still focused on Sam. “Come on, just admit it! You love being passed around. That’s why you left me, right?”

All eyes were on her again. Because of course they were. She couldn’t go a day without getting attention. At this point, all the patience she had stored left. “Get out,” she said silently. 

“What?” 

“You are being disruptive to the other patrons in this fine establishment,” she told him in an elegantly triumphant voice. “Please, kindly get out. We can bag your fish if you want.”

“You can’t just throw me out!” 

“I can and I am doing it right now. Please get out. You’re banned.”

A normal mammal would get the hint that they are unwanted and then leave. Surely he would do that, right? Wrong. In a very childish outburst that not even the most spoiled children would even attempt to do, the male otter grabbed a pitcher full of water from a nearby table and threw it with force on the floor next to Sam, splashing her with water. The most dangerous part of this ordeal was the fact that it was a glass pitcher. Combined with her not having anything to protect her feet…

“Who do you think you are, huh? You think you’re better than me, you sow snot?” he said with an angry expression, staring down at her with vice. At this point, the outburst had warranted the full attention of absolutely everyone. Some were already pulling their phones out to record this eventful situation.

“Call her that again, you piece of shit!” screamed Cooper behind her, trying to get in between them. With a blank expression, Sam gently pushed him away, still looking up at him. While he was only a bit taller, it still took the river otter some head tilting to look at the sea otter’s eyes. 

“What do you hope to gain from this?” she asked calmly. “Because it isn’t me. What do you even want? Are you mad you couldn’t control me like you controlled everything in your life? Well, excuse me for being my own person-”

“Agh!” he exclaimed, flattening the cooked salmon with a closed fist. “Don’t get all high and mighty on me like I was the one at fault for everything. You could never reach my heights. I always had to be two steps below you. You couldn’t even satisfy my di-”

“That’s enough!” screamed the boar cook, grabbing the angry sea otter from the hem of his shirt and lifting him up with incredible strength. The current audience gasped at the sight, the flashlights from the many cellphones illuminating the scene like a stage from a play. But for Sam, it was very much real. “You are going to get out of here, and never bother this poor otter anymore, or so help me, I will serve you on my menu! Are we clear?”

“Clear as fuckin’ daylights, piggy, now let go!” Gerald did as the otter said and put him back down on the ground. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, bottercup,” he told her. “You’ll see me again.”

“You don’t scare me, Max,” she told him decisively. If she said it out loud, she would totally manifest it as a real thing. It was hard not to feel scared around him.

“Oh, yeah?” he said, backing off slowly. “We’ll see about that. See ya later, Xam.”

With the usual suddenness of his arrival, the otter made his exit just as so, silently walking towards the exit, while everyone still watched, unable to even breathe. Cooper looked at Sam with sullen eyes, seeing at the paralyzed river otter, drenched in ice water from the pitcher and…

“Sam, you’re bleeding!” he exclaimed. This finally made the otter snap out of her trance and looked down to where she felt a slight sting. As expected, one of the pieces of glass from the shattered pitcher had wound up at the bottom of her left foot, giving her a small slice that was openly bleeding and mixing with the water on the floor. “Let me get you to the break room. To all our patrons, our apologies for this. Please continue with your lunch and we hope you are still having a good time.” After addressing the crowd, the phones were gone and the spoons and forks were grabbed again, continuing their feeding like normal. Cooper gave a nod to Gerald and began taking Sam to the break room to tend to her wound. He sat her down on one of the chairs and instructed her to stay still while he looked for something to patch her up. The otter complied, having no reason to really go anywhere. 

“Why did he even come back?” she asked herself, not realizing Cooper was already covering her wound with a bandaid and coban wrap. “I forgot all about him. Why’d he even come back?” she asked again.

“Sam, I’m sorry to pry, but…I’ve had crazy exes before. But that was on a whole ‘nother level. I mean, he threw a full pitcher of water at you. You got hurt! You need to call the police and get a restraining order on him.”

“Oh, I tried that, Coop. A year ago, when I was just starting the break-up. He paid off the judge.”

“Cheese and crackers…” he cursed, unable to really imagine how much despair she must be going through having him back and threatening her like that. “There must be something we can do to help. Y-you can crash at my apartment for a few days. To get the heat off you.”

“No, Cooper, it’s okay. He doesn’t know where I live.”

“But he sure knows where you work! What if he follows you home?”

“I’ll be fine, okay? Don’t ya worry.”

He hesitated for a moment, wanting to say more to her to convince her to stay somewhere else tonight, but he ultimately sighed. “Okay. Anything else you might need, don’t hesitate to tell me. That’s what friends are for.”

“There…there is something you could do,” she said shyly. 

“Anything!” he insisted again. Sam took off her glasses, revealing newly formed tears. 

“Could you hug me? This all just came on to me so fast, I tried being strong but it’s all falling on me and I don’t know how to solve it, it’s just too mu-” 

She had apparently said everything she needed to say, as it was enough for the raccoon to lunge at her and cover her with a candid hug that she desperately needed. She quietly sobbed into his shoulder, returning the hug with one paw while she held her glasses on the other. 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, okay? It’ll all be alright. You will be alright.”

“I’m sorry, but c-can I take the rest of t-the day off? I don’t think I can go back there.”

“Absolutely, Sam. Take all the time you need. I’ll make sure Gerald clocks you in for the whole shift too.”

“R-really? You’ll d-do that?” She got out of the hug, looking at him with a surprised expression. 

“It’s no big deal. Gerald will probably not hesitate to do that favor for you. You are his favorite server, after all.”

“Y-you don’t k-know,” she said while sniffing. “H-how relieved t-that makes me.”

“Don’t sweat it. You’d do the same for me. Now get out of here and stay out of trouble.”

She nodded with another big smile and got up to leave, making sure not to put much weight on her cut foot. She hung up her apron and exited off the back door. Hopefully she’ll clear her head by sleeping and maybe chatting up the fennec fox for the remainder of the day. She was about to get on her scooter before she saw something…bizarre.

A small…deer….reindeer? It was indiscernible from her distance, but nonetheless, a mammal resembling a deer seemed to be hiding in a bush…looking straight at her. 

Wednesday

Finnick drove towards an inconspicuous spot on the border of the Tundratown district, very far out into the icy mountains that were the turbines. Giants of steel delivering winds of freezing cold towards the town of cold-starved mammals. For a fennec like himself, who needed to be in more arid places like Sahara Square or just plain ol’ Downtown, it wouldn’t be a walk in the park to get to that area. However, it was of utmost importance that he did.

A few years ago, Greg had given him this place as a recommendation for quality off-brand materials. He’d already been to this place a few times to buy miscellaneous objects for his car, among others (his elephant suit came from one of these such stores). Now, you could be asking yourself, how are there even illegitimate stores hiding in the coldest place of Tundratown? This was a question that Finnick had asked himself the first time he had been led here, and it was a simpler answer than he had thought. 

Arriving at the pickup site, the small fox got out of his car with about three layers of clothing on his person, including some foot protectors and gloves. Kneeling on the ground, he scraped some of the ice on the floor, revealing a hidden speaker. 

“Argument with your spouse again?” the speaker said. 

“Yeah. She just needs to meet me in the middle,” Finnick replied. 

“Why don’t you tell her that yourself?” the speaker said again. This was Finnick’s cue to get closer to the wall. They had thankfully made it easier to find the entrance, having a distinct marking that could only be seen with UV light, which Finnick had in hand. The hidden marking was just a simple arrow pointing at a groove in the wall above him. Nick knocked three times, and in a few minutes, it was open. 

“Haven’t seen you ‘round these parts much, Finnick,” said a panther. “Still sad over your partner being part of the fuzz? Hahahahahaa.”

“Very funny, Ravi. Now let me in, please.”

“Of course, your majesty, come right in,” he said sarcastically, opening the door further with a whine. 

Inside, it was mostly dark due to being inside the ice block that made the district run, lit up by the many storefronts and fires of some vagrants who had nowhere else to go. Finnick never ceased to be amazed at how such a community could live inside so much machinery. The name that had been chosen for this establishment when first founded was very accurate.

“Welcome back to The Inbetween, foxy. You missed us?”

“Not a chance. Just here to pick up the stuff. Greg already called?”

“Oh yeah, he made sure we weren’t cheating you out of it. Good kid. Not sure how he still talks so happy all the time. It makes me sound depressed! It’s crazy.”

“Yeah, Greg’s like that. A happy little kid, even after all he went through.”

“Let’s hope he stays that way. You and Skye still tight?”

“Yeah, why?” Finnick asked, arching his brow at the bigger mammal. 

“No reason. She just hasn’t been back here in a while.”

“Why would she even need to come back here?”

“Oh, she hasn’t told you? Girl used to be a big part of this place in her haydays. Everyone here misses her a lot. Still love how well she has settled in the real world.”

“Really? Didn’t peg her for an Inbetweener,” said Finnick. “Any other famous patrons I should know about?”

“We’ve had a few Mayors here. Some rich guys, some tech bros, you name it. We even had a vixen mayor from the other side of the world here some time ago. Still crazy we’ve managed to stay somewhat out of the limelight.”

“Yeah, how in the heck does that work?” Finnick asked. “Y’all just make like a tree and leave whenever people have to do maintenance here.”

“Oh, my sweet dear fennec, how naive you are. You think the people who do maintenance here aren’t also in our payroll?”

“I should’ve figured. You guys have got this place plenty figured out.”

“You can say that again. Enough small talk, let’s get you what you came here for, shall we?”

“Yeah.”

If he didn’t have a guide in front of him, Finnick would end up getting lost in the maze that was the Inbetween. Since it was mostly a mess of tubes and wires, it was difficult to go around it without the help of someone who has been there for years. It’s a completely new layout from the one he was always used to back in the city. Uneven passageways and elevated flooring was the norm for the place. Finnick tried to traverse the place without too much eye contact with the store owners or the ones selling. He knew this place probably attracted a lot of attention from unreasonable folk who might not be as friendly as Ravi. He tried not to get in too much trouble. 

“I’ve always been curious about something,” Finnick said, still walking behind the panther. “How come we can’t hear the engines outside. Those are really friggin’ loud. I’d assume-”

“That’s your first problem, Finnick. There is no assuming in the Inbetween. Anything you imagine can and will be possible here. As for your question, the original city founders knew that doing maintenance in a place with one of the loudest and most obnoxious sounds in the world would be hell to maintain, not to mention the cost of labor. So, they did the sensible thing and built sound-proofed metal plates all around, including inside of the engines. During maintenance, they have to open a small hole through the metal that does let out a little sound, but it lasts for only a few minutes. Anyway, we’re here.”

They entered a door labeled Tommy’s Place. Inside was mostly junk and water, coming from the lidless fish tanks sprawled around. Species of exotic fish roamed around the tanks freely, flaunting themselves to possible sellers. Looking down, Finnick could see another bigger fish tank, this time with a glass lid. Bigger fish were roaming around down there, including some sharks.

“Don’t mind those, they’re Tommy’s pets.”

“Pets, huh?” Finnick gulped, imagining being eaten whole by one of those things. He’ll try not to offend this seller, make the purchase and go. 

Ravi seemed to understand Finnick’s worried face, putting a paw on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, they’re vegetarian.”

“Are you pulling my leg right now?”

“Told ya anything’s possible here, man.”

“Ravi’s right, new customer,” a voice said in the dark. “They only eat my cabbages.” A grizzly bear as big as the fish tank below them came out from a door in front, with two heads of cabbage on his paws. He opened a hatch leading to the tank, throwing the cabbages. “Eat up, my babies!” 

“Did he just call them his-”

“Yeah don’t mention that,” Ravi told Finnick. “It’s just his thing.”

“Uhuh,” said Finnick. He would do anything Ravi said. No making enemies this time.

“Yo, Ravi, you seen this viral video yet?” The bear asked the panther, seemingly ignoring the small (but big of spirit) fox. He decided not to rudely intervene.

“Which one, man? There’s a lot!”

“This chick called in the middle of the Olivia Floor Show and straight up revealed some juicy secrets to the entire audience. Hold on, let me send it to you.”

“Uhh, excuse me?” Finnick called out. He was never one for patience, especially when he was feeling ignored. He hated that. “Can I just buy what I came to buy and leave? It really shouldn’t keep you long.”

The bear, with an unamused expression, turned to the fox. “Oh crap, you’re not a rabbit,” he said surprised. Ravi put his paws on his mouth, trying to hold onto his laughter. Finnick was not amused in the slightest. “Oh, I’m sorry I blurted that you, man, I-I really thought…with your long ears-”

“I will totally erase that slip-up from my mind if you would please just show me the merchandise. Please?” He would’ve never said that to someone who just insulted him so openly like that, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and he really didn’t want to get kicked out of here. 

“Sure thing, sir,” the embarrassed bear said, collecting a covered fish tank. Putting it in front of Finnick, he took off the mantle. “Voila! Tommy’s special salmons for a great price!”

Every color and length of Salmon imaginable stood before Finnick’s eyes, all swimming around the tank. He wasn’t a fish expert, but they sure looked well-fed and healthy, without any trace of malnourishment. It was clear the bear enjoyed the thought of keeping fish happy. 

“Listen, I don’t know much about salmon. I’ve only eaten shitty ones at fast food places. So, what do ya recommend?”

“Well, King salmons are the priciest among this pile. They have quite literally the best taste out of any fish ever. Not just salmon.”

“Is this your appetite talking?” Ravi said. “I’ve had tuna that tasted better than those salmons.”

“But I’m not selling tuna. Am I, Ravi?! You wanna get my customer to run off to some other shady dealer and buy discount tuna?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Tommy,” Finnick said. “I’m not going anywhere. This salmon isn’t exactly for me. It’s for an otter.”

“Oh? An otter?” Ravi asked. “Now that’s interesting. You of all mammals have a date? Now I’ve seen everything.”

“I asked you to opine, Rav? Shut your mouth, please,” Finnick told him. The panther did a zip expression with his mouth and smiled. 

“Well, if that’s the case, this actually changes things,” Tommy said. “To tell you the truth, otters eat a lot of salmon. Like, a lot. They sell that shit as candy bars down there. So, naturally, buying salmon to an otter, while still good food, will have to be some wayy stronger fish to actually hit, ya know? Cuz you do wanna woo this otter, right?”

“It’s…not exactly woo. It’s just to show gratitude.”

“Gratitude? For what?” the panther said out loud. 

“I told you to zip it, Ravi!”

“No, that’s a valid question,” the bear said. “What’s the gratitude for? I can hook you up with the perfect fish, but I need some more context.”

The fennec sighed. “I ate for free at her restaurant. She used her own money to pay for it.”

Ravi’s eyes became wide, opening his mouth to try to say something, but ultimately chose not to.

“Hmm, that is a pretty big deal. I think this one fits best,” the bear pointed at a beautiful gold-colored salmon. “One of these guys is actually a completely new salmon species I’ve been working on. It’s a cross between a King salmon and a Sockeye salmon. I called it Socking. And since you’re friends with Greg, it’s half-off on it.”

“Alright, I’ll take it then. Pleasure doing business with you.”

“No problem. I’ll bag up Miss Frizzle for you, just a moment.” The bear left, back to the door he had got out from.

“Did he just-”

“Yeah, he names all his fishes,” Ravi said, already knowing what was on Finnick’s mind.

…

It had all gone according to plan. With his salmon now obtained, stored in a light portable cooler, Finnick was off to the exit, relieved that no major occurrences against his favor showed up to put him down. He was about to cross the final door, still being toured by Ravi. He was so, so close.

“You hustled that otter, didn’t you?” he asked, dropping the bombshell of knowledge down his face.

“H-how did you-”

“I’ve been on this place for twenty years, Finnick. You see a lot of bullshit go around, day after day. And what you said back there, my friend? That was some fresh bullshit, with some horseshit sprinkles.”

“Ok, well, it’s none of your business.”

“Oh, I know. But I’ll just let you know, it won’t work.”

“What won’t work? I’m not trying to make anything work, I’m just showing some goddamn gratitude for a change. Is that too hard to believe?”

“You want me to be honest, bro? Yeah, I think that’s too hard to believe. No offense, man, but you’re kinda good at being a deceiving little shit. You’ve hustled your way through your life like it was nothing, earning enough street cred to create your own gang.”

“A piece of shit would create a gang.”

“Wrong. A smart person would create a gang. A piece of shit would still go around hustling poor people so that your poor self can get a little less poor, so now you’re trying to atone by giving back to your victims. Did I hit the nail on the head?”

“F-fuck you, man, what are you saying all this shit to me for?” The exit was right there. If he could just leave now...

“Oh, never mind, no. You’re gonna make her give you dinner again! You just bought this salmon as a front, but in reality, you’re gonna get close enough to her so that she can just give you food for as long as you two remain friends. Is that it? Did I get it right this time?” The panther got uncomfortably close to Finnick’s face, which finally prompted the fennec to snap and push him away.

“Leave me the fuck alone! Get away from me and Greg!” The fennec sprinted towards the exit, not before hearing another hurtful comment from the panther which made him stop in his tracks again.

“You’re rotten, Finnick,” he called out. “And you always will be. Why do you think no one sticks around? First it was Nick. Greg will probably be next. See ya next time.” The panther turned the other way, as Finnick began closing the door, giving it a good swing in anger.

 He was seething, and he was seeing red. If there was something to break in all the snow-filled surroundings, he’d take his bat and start going at it, but unfortunately for him, he had to stay alone with his thoughts. Alone with the fact that everything Ravi said was probably true. Like a fish out of the cooler, he was rotten. (He’s been talking to Sam too much, the fish allegories have gotten to him). Everything around him always seemed to go to crap. He just hopes that Ravi's wrong about Greg. If he lost the respect of that arctic fox too, he might as well lose the respect of everyone. Finnick drove back home drowned in his thoughts, with Miss Frizzle’s corpse drowned in ice, eager to be cooked in four days. 

Monday

She was in panic mode. 

That deer had totally freaked her out. She took her scooter and got out of there like a bat out of hell. She made sure to pick different exits and go through every alleyway imaginable just to make sure she wasn’t being followed by that horrid picture. When she got home, she threw the scooter into the corner, locked her door with trembling hands and ran towards her room, looking for the one thing she needed. She wondered why she didn’t just save it in her wallet, cursing herself to no end for her mismanagement of such a precious item. 

“It’s here!” she screamed, taking the object very hard with her paws, afraid she would drop it by accident. The card was worn after being stowed away in one of her cabinets for a year, but she was thankful the contents were still legible. You’re Otterly Amazing was the message at the forefront of this card, but the back was what mattered most to her. 

A phone number, and the person it belonged to: Officer Nicholas P. Wilde. 

Chapter Text

One Year Earlier

When she agreed to ride along with the Slothmores, she thought it’d be a calm experience as the three of them drove to the concert at the Plaza. She couldn’t have been more wrong. She should’ve realized that sloths, being slow, had a hard time actually being slow at the wheel, ironically. He’d press the accelerator and then would take about fifteen minutes to let go of it, going from quiet and peaceful to high-speed chase level. It was so bad she even got the attention of the cops.

Why me? the poor sow thought as she gripped into the seat so that she wouldn’t fly out of the car. She was praying to every divine being to please stop the car before her face winded up on the concrete of the street. 

It didn't take long for Flash to slow down for the cops. Her heart was still going a few million beats per minute, and her claws still gripped the sides of the car seat, ruining the leather make. Hopefully they wouldn't notice that. 

"Flash flash hundred yard dash!" Said one of the cops, as soon as Flash rolled down the windows. It seemed like they knew each other. She couldn't quite see the mammal yet.

"Niiiiiiick…" said Flash, a smile slowly forming on his face. It was clear he didn't want to pay a fine. "Buddy…how…are…you…this…"

"Flash, do you know how fast you were going?" Said a female voice this time. 

"...evening," Flash finished saying. 

The female gave an exasperated sigh. Getting up on her seat, Sam finally noticed who those two were. The only bunny and fox cop duo of the city. The most famous cop duo of the city. Why meeeeeeeee? Sam whined in her thoughts.  

"Um, excuse me, back here?" Sam said, making herself seen by the two officers. "I-I had nothing to do with this, I was just given a ride because we're going the same way. I was about to get off."

"We're…going…to…see…Gazelle…we…were…in…a…" said Priscilla. 

"Yeah, me too," said Sam. "We left after dinner-"

"...rush," the sloth ended her statement. 

"Huh, that worked out somehow. Anyways, can I please get off. I can walk the rest of the way?"

"...sure," Flash said, unlocking the door allowing her to step out. 

She took a good look at the two officers, who were also eyeing her. "A-Am I free to go? Am I gonna get fined?"

The fox approached her. "Oh, not at all. After all, you're a victim in all this. I'm sure Jud- uhhh, Officer Hopps will let Flash here go with a warning. But I've never seen you before, how come you were with them?"

"I was actually their server at the restaurant I work at. We realized we were both going the same way."

"Let me guess. You work at The Rainforest Riviera."

"Yeah! How did you know?" 

"I know that uniform. I worked there one summer. Gerald was a pain in my tail sometimes."

"Wow! To think The Officer Wilde worked where I work now!" Sam said. She was genuinely impressed. 

"I assume he's still as uptight as usual?"

"Oh, he's gotten worse," Sam said, making both of them laugh. 

"Anyway, I heard you were going to a concert with them?" Mr. Wilde asked. 

"Yeah. Long story short, I was trying to rush them out of the restaurant so I could get there early. But it turned out Flash was going to see Gazelle to celebrate his engagement with Priscilla."

"What??" The officer said loudly, turning his head back to the car. "Flash! You're getting married! Congrats, man!"

Officer Hopps, still talking to Flash, was startled by the fox's voice. The sloth slowly got his head out of the car. "Thanks…Nick…" and slowly retreated back in. 

"Anyways," the officer turned back to her. "Me and Judy are actually going to see Gazelle too.” She didn’t know if he realized he said her first name, but he didn’t show any sign that he noticed.  “I could give you a ride there if you want to. You'd just have to wait for us to change into more civil clothes. How does that sound?"

"How does it sound? Going to the Gazelle concert with the people who saved me from going broke?? It sounds awesome!"

The officer smiled at her enthusiasm. "Great. Call me Nick, by the way. I don't want my friends to be so formal with me." He extended a paw.

“Deal!” Sam says, taking the paw and shaking it. 

“...And stop driving recklessly! Have fun at the concert!” said Officer Hopps, bidding adieu to the sloth couple, now making her way back to Officer Wilde. “What did I miss, slick?” 

Sam pretends not to hear that, but can’t avoid smiling at the nickname. 

“Oh, nothing much, Carrots. This lady here just happens to be going to the Gazelle concert just like us. So I hope you’re not too bothered if I offer her a ride.” Sam can’t help but feel small at the sight of the imposing bunny officer. They might be the same height, but Sam knew she was a bunny that commanded respect. After all, she was able to uncover a government conspiracy in a single day. 

“Of course she can! Your name is…?” Asks the officer, also shaking her paw. 

“Sam. Samantha Otterley. I’m so happy to meet you, Officer Hopps. Sorry it’s in these…awkward circumstances.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I was just as surprised when I saw Flash. You must’ve gotten quite a scare, huh?”

“I’m okay now,” Sam told the bunny. She was definitely more than okay.

“You’re more than welcome to come with us, Sam,” said Officer Hopps. “Call me Judy.”

…

Some people pre-gamed before a party, having a few drinks before the main event. But that’s not the case with Nick and Judy. Well, mostly Judy. She was playing Gazelle songs nonstop from the moment they left the area to when they arrived at the Precinct. Nick apologized for having her sit in the back like a criminal, but she didn’t mind. They were already doing so much for her. 

After clocking out and parking their police car, the walk to the concert was only a few meters, since it was going to be held at the Central Plaza, the biggest park in all of Zootopia. Sam was surprised to realize they had already come out of the precinct dressed in formal clothes, Nick wearing brown khaki shorts and a green fern-patterned Pawaiian shirt. Judy opted for the modest, but equally captivating look, sporting a bright blue blouse and black leggings. 

"Are you going to the concert in your work clothes?" Asked Judy. 

"Ah, y-yeah," Sam said, embarrassed. It's not everyday a respected police officer such as her notices you. "I didn't really have time to change."

"Oh, no, we are not having that. I have some spare clothes you can borrow, I'll go get them."

"Wait, no no no, that won't be necessary! You've already done enough," Sam said, panicking. She didn't want to cause any trouble to the pair. 

"A friend of mine shall not go to a Gazelle concert dressed like that! I won't allow it," said Judy, with a playful tone.

"Carrots will not change her mind, Sam. You might as well indulge her," said Nick, chuckling. She struggled not to say anything about that nickname, thinking it was probably offensive to Judy. Her doubts were quenched when she saw the doe grabbing her paw and happily leading her back to the precinct for a change of clothes. 

"Hey, Clawhauser! I'm back for a sec, just gotta give my new friend a change of clothes," Judy said to the cheetah receptionist at the front desk. 

"And who's this adorable friend of yours?" Sam blushed. She wasn't used to this much attention.

"Me and Nick met her while stopping a speeding car. Turns out it was Flash, Nick's sloth friend. Remember when I told you about him?"

"Three-humped camel guy?" The cheetah asked. Sam was definitely missing the context. 

"The same one," Judy responded. "Tell you the whole story later, gotta run!" 

Judy grabbed her paw again and directed her to the dressing room, where she gave Sam a wonderful green dress that combined with her eyes. 

"Officer Hopps, you really shouldn't have done this," Sam told the doe.

"Sam, I told you to call me Judy. Besides, why wouldn't I help you? You love Gazelle, I love Gazelle. I mean, come on, we're best friends already."

Sam smiled at the incredible enthusiasm and kindness of the rabbit. She could not believe that at one point she was a police officer that doomed an entire species through her selfish words. She gasped at herself for even thinking about it. 

"I'm sorry, Judy. I just…assumed you'd be rougher. With the whole conference thing, which I don't hold against you, by the way, I thought you'd be…how do I say it?"

"Depressed? Cynical? Downright deplorable?" Judy suggested. 

"No! I mean…kinda. Sorry, I'm messing it all up. Here you are, being nice to me, and now I'm insulting you."

"Oh no, Sam, don't do that. You have every right to think of me like that. I was very much a mess. I still am in certain ways. But, everyday I try. I try to make something better of myself. So that I never repeat what happened at that vestibule."

The bunny, who just a few seconds ago was as chipper as they came, was now on a downward slope, her ears and head having fallen to the floor. The otter felt guilty, but at the same time, she was relieved that Judy had that much regret for what she had done. With the little courage Sam had, she took Judy's hand, surprising the doe enough to look back up.

"It's okay, Judy. I forgive you. And I'm sure every predator forgives you too, seeing how Nick treats you."

"Really?" She asked, smiling. "Thanks, Sam."

A comfortable silence bloomed, but then Sam remembered there was a concert to get to. "We, uhhh, should be getting back to your partner now," she said. They'd been there for a while.

"Oh, you are so right! Nick is gonna make a terrible joke about what we were doing in here!"

They rapidly speed up out of the dressing room and go back outside to the fox, who had his arms crossed in boredom. 

"About time you guys got here. Were you frying chicken there? Did you at least save me a wing?"

"Told you," Judy said, which prompted a grin on the otter's face. If there's something she would take away from this bizarre journey, it's that the news outlets did not portray these two accurately at all. Nick and Judy were normal mammals who acted hilarious around each other. It was very endearing and hopeful to see. A predator and a prey, getting along so well. It was the perfect symbol of what Zootopia should be.

"How'd you enjoy the concert, you two?" Nick asked the two ladies on the back of his car, Sam being one of them. 

"It was incredible!" Judy said first. "You should dance more, Nick. It really suits you."

"Are you teasing me or telling the truth? I've been wanting to get into Samba, and I was hoping to use this concert as a test run."

"You could use some help, but your hips clearly did not lie."

"That is very high praise! And no condescension this time!" Once again, Sam was missing context. But for a moment, she could've sworn they were flir-

"How about you, Sam?" Asked Judy. "Enjoy the concert?"

"Oh, umm, of course! I can finally say I blew all my savings for a reason!" 

"That's…great you think about it like that," said Nick, awkwardly. "Anyway, this is you, Judy. Back to your shoebox apartment."

The car pulled up at the Grand Pangolin Arms, Judy's place of residence. Sam assumed the rabbit was already living at a much more fitting establishment, seeing that she had rid the city of a great evil. But at the same time, from what she had seen of the rabbit this afternoon, it was more than true to her character. She didn't care for a reward. She did it out of pure heart. It made her admire the doe even more.

"Bye, Sam! Nick will be more than happy to take you home. Don't worry, he's safe. He knows I would have him burned at the stake if anything happened to you."

"At least put my body to good use. Give it to an orphanage of hungry kits, that should be enough."

"Silly fox," Judy said while laughing. "Anyway, I had a lot of fun today, Sam. Don't be a stranger!"

And so Judy went, ready to rest from the long day she and Nick probably had. Nick stayed parked until he saw Judy entering the building, and immediately began to move the car again, rejoining the evening traffic. 

"I assume you live near RR," Nick told the otter.

"Yes, I'm at 21 Amazonian Street. Do you need directions?"

"Nah, I got it. Advantages of being a street fox? You know your way around."

“You must also know the Rainforest top to bottom if you worked at the restaurant,” Sam said.

“That too. But I didn’t last very long. Back then, I was going from job to job, trying to find a steady living. It worked, for a while. I realized I was better off being my own boss.”

“Really? What was that?” Sam asked. The fox became silent, just focused on the road. The otter thought she’d hit a nerve. “...sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Oh, not at all, Sammers. I was just thinking if I should tell you the truth or not. No offense, but we just met like six hours ago.”

“Sammers, really?” she chuckled. “If I get a nickname, I must be worthy enough to learn some info from you. Not that I’m pressuring you, sorry again.”

“You sure apologize a lot.”

“Only when I feel like I’m out of line.”

“Trust me, it takes a lot to be out of line with me. I’ve been called all sorts of things.”

“That’s good. I’d hate to insult you.”

“You’re too nice to do that. Anyways, not many people know this, but…I used to hustle. Used to go around selling pawpsicles melted out of jumbo pops, and then selling the ice cream-stained sticks as “redwood” to the mouse building company. Did that for ten years.”

“Wow…” Sam said. 

“And there goes the little respect you had for me.”

“No, no, you got it all wrong! I’m sure you did it out of necessity, Mr. Wilde! I can’t blame you for that. Besides…I know the treatment foxes get here. Predators overall are still not well liked in some places. I still get my fair share of people hating me just for being an otter.”

"Mr. Wilde? Please. Mr. Wilde was my dad. You can still call me Nick."

She sighed. "Sorry I freaked out. Didn't want you to think I was some kinda-"

"I get it, Sam. I'm pretty good at reading people, and I don't see any hatred in you. We're good. Although…I'm curious about why you lost your job back then. To be fair, I was so depressed I barely saw the news."

"Same as everybody. It was bad for business. Prey mammals just didn't want to be served by predators, even meek little otters like me."

"To be fair, a male otter went savage and slashed a panther's face pretty hard," Nick said, turning right on a street. "Not saying it was fair to fire you, but I understand the fear. Back then, everyone believed they could turn savage out of nowhere. It was bad for everyone."

"Do you…still feel hurt by her? By what she said?" She didn't say her name, but Nick was smart enough to know who Sam was talking about. 

"No," he said in an instant. "What's done is done. Carrots…Judy, has done more than enough. She earned her forgiveness by cleaning her own mess, which is more than what ninety-nine percent of people actually do. I know you might still have some reservations about her, but I promise you, she wouldn't have wanted me as her partner if she hated predators." Seeing Nick's proud smile made her small otter heart skip a beat. It didn't take a psychic to know that the fox felt something for the bunny. Something more than just respect. 

"Oh, I know. She's the nicest mammal I've ever met."

"Don't I know it. Heh, even when she's not around, it turns into a praise party."

"Well, from one predator to another, I think you've struck gold when it comes to partners. Both on and off work," she said cheekily. 

"Yeah…w-wait what do you mean by-" 

"Oh, we're here!" Sam said with a smile. They had arrived at her home fairly quickly. The night air of the Rainforest was one of Sam's favorite smells, and she loved the way it hit her snout as she exited the car. "Well, this is it!"

"Yup, sure is," said Nick, talking through his rolled-down window. "Hold on, I got somethin' for you." 

Sam saw Nick grab something from the car door and held it up to her with two of his fingers. It was a small white card that resembled a business card you would receive from a corporate mogul. 

"What's this?" Sam asked, grabbing the card. Inspecting it closer, she saw a phone number and a cheesy line. " You're Otterly Amazing. Really?" 

Nick raised his eyes. "That was pure coincidence, I swear. I printed out a ton of these with cheesy puns to annoy Carrots. And don't worry, that's my business phone number. In case you have an emergency and think normal cops won't help you out, gimme a call!"

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! You're my friend, right?"

Sam, still a little shy from such an event, stored the card in her pocket and smiled back at the fox. "Right. Thanks a lot, Nick. You and Judy have been great. You two should visit the restaurant sometime!"

"We will definitely think about it. Fried shrimp is still on the menu, I hope?"

"Oh yeah. Gerald cooked up a new recipe. It's incredible."

"You just spoke my language, Sammers. See you soon!" 

With that, the fox slowly turned his car around and left from the same road they had come in. Strange, Sam thought. He didn't wait for me to go inside before leaving. Eh, he must be tired.  

She paid no more mind to it and went inside. 

Present Day- Monday, 9 PM

"OH, HE'S IN LOVE," Sam exclaimed in realization. "How did I not see this? Agh, you're so dumb, Sam." 

She wasn't much for soap operas, but this particular one had her hooked. It was called A Fox for Your Troubles and it was about a private detective in the 40s who ends up falling for his secretary, who is actually older than him. It is comedic, dramatic, and very cheesy, but it made up for it with the quality of character writing, which to her knowledge was rare to find in such shows. 

She was procrastinating. Very hardly so. Her feet ached from this morning's occurrence. Thankfully, no glass shards needed to be unburied from them. She was scared. More scared about calling Nick than about the stranger who had been watching her from afar. She hadn't seen the duo since their encounter last year, and calling now when she needed help felt…manipulative. In her defense, Nick had only given her his business phone, and Judy had also forgotten to give Sam her Contacts. What was she going to do, go to the precinct hoping they're there and ask for both their numbers? Sam knew that would be insanely creepy. 

Nick hadn't come to the restaurant either. She even asked if a fox and a rabbit showed up together on her days off, and nothing. She looked at the news, and apparently they had worked on a big case for the entire year, dismantling some corporation that was manufacturing illegal Nighthowlers. After finding that out, she couldn't blame them for their lack of contact. The life of a cop was not one of luxury, as she realized in the soap opera. 

A thought would not leave her mind, even as she focused on the actors on the screen. She had to get that thought out there or she would explode. She knew just the guy who would listen. She pulled out her phone and texted the fox she was very interested in seeing next week. She hadn't told him about what had happened that morning.

Sam: Nick, you there?

Fennick: Yup. 

Fennick felt like a very funny name to give him, considering she already knew a fox named Nick. She didn't want to confuse the two. Besides, fennec and Nick fit together so well. It rolled off the tongue. 

Sam: You know about Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps? The cops on TV? 

Fennick: Yeah, whataboutem

Sam: First off, spacing, please. Secondly, did you know I actually met them?

Fennick: If I had a drink I would've done a spit take right now. That's actually crazy. 

Sam: I know, right? They took me to the Gazelle concert last year. Remember that?

Fennick: Oh yeah. That Gazelle sure knows how to put on a show.

Sam: You went?

Fennick: My uhh…let's just say someone close to me gave me free tickets to go with them. Being the good guy that I am, I couldn't refuse. 

She was afraid to know who that was, but she assumed it was his ex-wife. That good-for-nothing.

Sam: Anyways, when I hung out with them, they sure seemed…close. 

Fennick: Like, "they share each other's secrets close" or "they share each other's clothes" close?

Sam: Bit of both. 

Fennick: I'll be damned. I knew something fishy was going on. 

Sam: You did? Does that bother you?

Fennick: Why would it?

Sam: Because your wife…

Fennick: Oh. 

Fennick: don't worry about that, Whiskers. It's not like love has to stop existing just because I went through a rough patch. Those cops can do whatever they want. Although, it would be pretty crazy if that was true. Scandalous, even. 

Sam: Really? Zootopia should be more accepting by now, don't you think?

Fennick: Sorry to burst your bubble, Sam, but prey are still trying to figure out how to live around us, and now they gotta start worrying about us becoming family too? It might not go as well as you expect. 

Sam: That's awful, but true. Why can't anyone just love whoever they want?

Fennick: Beats me. Personally, I'll love whatever I want to love, no matter what anyone says. 

Sam: I'm the same way, Nick. I'm glad you don't care about who loves who.

Fennick: No problem, Sam. Life's already hard enough, why bother caring so much about that?

With a relieved sigh, Sam was glad that the fennec had those principles. She gave a bigger sigh again, as she realized the soap opera was now over, and the next show wasn't one she was too keen on watching today. It was one of those late night shows where the host invites someone every time. This time they said it was two surprise guests, but she didn't care enough to stick around. Besides, she needed to make the call, whether she wanted to or not. Pressing the correct numbers on her phone, the otter was about to press the dial button. 

"Maybe I should take another bath. That soap opera made me musky," she said to herself, running away from the phone. She would call him after her bath. Definitely.

"I'm screwed."

"What's that, Uncle? I can't hear you!" Screamed Greg, who was currently frying chicken in the van's portable kitchen. The sizzling of the meat dipped in boiling oil was enough to make some noise in their tiny space. 

"I said I'm screwed!" Screamed Finnick this time. 

"What for?" Greg asked, heading closer to hear him. 

"Sam knows Nick."

Greg's eyes and mouth hung open. "Sam. The otter Sam? Sam the otter?"

"Yes Sam the otter! What other person do we know named Sam?"

"Sam the skunk. Sam the porcupine. Sam from the state fairgrounds-"

"Okay, point taken, but it's none of those Sams. It's the otter."

"Okay, cool. I thought you were already screwed with her. She still doesn't know you hustled her."

"Yeah, but now I'm even more screwed. She knows who Nick is, for fox sake! If she talked to him again, he could say something about me and there goes the little bit of disguise I have until next week! Well, to be fair, she met him last year and it doesn't seem like they have talked since. Ohh, that tod for brains better not call her."

"You jealous?" Greg teased. 

"As a matter of fact, I'm not. Nick is too in love with Miss Biology to care about any other broads."

"Oh, so you are romantically interested in Sam?"

"Ugh, just stop talking if you don't got nothing interesting to say. Don't let that chicken burn."

Greg heard the fennec's command and headed back to the chicken. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think he's going to be able to call her today, if he was ever going to."

"How do you know?" Finnick said, putting his attention away from his phone, his reading glasses pushed aside. 

"Let's just say that…I know where he will be today."

"Say that one more time," Finnick said slowly. "You know where Nick will be? How exactly do you know, Greg?"

"Unc, just chill, man. He…messages me from time to time. To see how I'm doing…"

"Ohhh, he does, huh. I don't suppose he asks for me much."

"He…doesn't, sorry."

"Why sorry? I don't care. At least he's decent enough to still want to talk to you. He can rot for all I care."

"Uncle, that's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Greg. You can't seem to realize that."

Greg frowned and just continued watching the chicken. When he saw it was fully cooked, he grabbed the slotted spoon and rose it from the oil, leaving it up for a few seconds to make sure it drained as much of the oil as possible and put it in a plate. 

"So, uhhh…where's he going to be, today? I don't care, of course, just…to know."

Greg smiled and became glad that Finnick was still in his own way worried about Nick. There was a tension between them, but that didn't mean they didn't care for each other. "He's gonna appear on TV right now," he decided to tell him. "The Olivia Floor Show I believe."

"Is he now? That's interesting. Is Floppy gonna be there too?"

"Yep. Not much of a draw if it isn't both of them together. Wanna watch it?"

"Absolutely not. But I should text Sam about it if she wants to watch it."

So he did. But she never replied back. After coming out of her second bath, she was filled with a courage that she knew would dissipate if she didn't act quickly. Practically jumping towards the phone, she turned it on to see that the screen with the number was still showing. With a quick action that not even her brain was able to process, she had dialed. With trembling paws, she put the phone on her ear, waiting for the fox to pick up. 

"I'm starting to get second thoughts about this," said my partner, with teetering movements and thumpy legs. "Why did we agree to this, Nick?"

"Carrots, you know why," I say to her. It's not like we've been talking about going into this late night show for months now. "It's a good way for people to know our cause."

"Yeah, but aren't our actions enough? We've done so much already, what more do we have to prove?"

"Show starts in five minutes, Officers," a female deer told us from the other side of the curtain we would walk out of. 

"Thank you, we'll be there," I told her. Judy still isn't convinced, just a complete nervous wreck. Boy, what am I going to do with her? "Carrots," I called for her attention. 

"I-I mean, what if something slips? What if I say something I don't want to say?"

"Fluff."

"I mean, you know how badly I messed up last time, Nick. I can't go on national television, I'll end up making life worse for everyone-"

"Judy! Calm. Down." I say, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her out of her increasingly panicked state. "You're not that person anymore. The only way you can mess this up is by acting like a nervous wreck in front of Miss Floor."

"B-but what if that person slips back? I don't want to…I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. I wish I could just forget I did that."

It breaks my heart to see her like that. I wish I had the ability to immediately stop all of her insecurities. The best I can do is try to talk her into hiding them away. "You can't just erase that memory, Judy. It defeats the whole purpose of growth. If I had forgotten I was ever hurt, it never would've made me open up to you. You're strong, you're courageous, and most of all, you are not the Judy from a year and a half ago. I believe that. You have to believe that too."

She stayed silent and still, no longer teetering or thumping. "Right," she said. Some tears came out of her eyes, but she made sure to clean them before they rolled down her face. "My past is in the past. I'm a new me who will not mess up her interview."

"That's the spirit, Jude. Besides, it's me who is more likely to mess it up for both of us."

The female deer came back. "One minute until the show begins, get in position. Remember, come out when Miss Floor says your names. It's a surprise interview after all."

"Will do," I said again, and the deer went back out. I started getting up from my chair. "Well? You ready, Miss Hopps?"

She nodded. "Let's kick her butt with the greatest interview she's ever given."

"That's the spirit, partner. Let's go, it's starting."

…

Finnick's TV was off. He was busy enjoying chicken and not caring about Nick. Sam's TV was also off. She was worried about calling Nick and taking a bath. On a random TV in Zootopia, someone was getting ready to watch the Olivia Floor Show. It started out like most shows in that genre. The host would enter the room while the audience clapped for them thunderingly. 

In this case, the host was none other than Olivia Floor, a middle-aged white rabbit with red eyes. Her background is of no interest to the person watching the show at that very moment. They were just looking for a good time away from all worries. 

"Welcome, everybody!" Greeted the white rabbit, to a camera facing straight at her, making it seem like she was looking directly at the television. On her full black dress, she sat on her titular desk, the one she'd been using since season one of the show. "How ya doing today? I'm doing great! Because today, folks, we have got two special guests that will rock your world!"

The audience cheered one more time, with the camera aiming at the happy audience, which was composed of an equal number of both predator and prey mammals, happily expectant to who this mysterious guest could be.

"Some say that dreams are windows into a different world," said Olivia. "Well, tell me who had the bright idea to turn me into a robotic spider on a different world? Totally impractical!" Some jokes landed, and some didn't. The audience loved her for her undoubted charisma and great chemistry with all the guests. "These guests may not have turned into robotic machines, but I'm sure they do dream of electric sheep." Some gasps were heard in the audience, possibly from people who already figured out who the guests would be. "I am very pleased to welcome to the stage, Officers Nicholas Wilde and Judy Hopps!"

The person watching the TV had never seen the audience erupt so loudly as they did now. Hearing those names was an instant calling to scream at the top of their lungs, Floor's introduction completely overshadowed. The rabbit gave no hint of dissatisfaction, also clapping at the pair. 

The fox entered with a killer flair and vibe, wearing a bright purple shirt and gray pants. The bunny did not stay far behind, wearing an impressive orange dress with green-colored buttons. They sat down on the sofa to the left of Floor's desk. 

"Wow. You guys sure know how to enter a room. Incredible. You both are absolutely gorgeous!" To her praise, the audience agreed by clapping even more. The fox saluted them and smiled, while the bunny was the shyest one of the two, awkwardly staring at the audience. 

"Thank you very much, Miss Floor. Me and Judy are so delighted to be here."

"It's true," Hopps said. 

"The pleasure's all mine. Any specific reason why you both decided to be on the show?"

"Well, to spread some much-needed positivity in these still-trying times," Judy said. "We are all still healing from the events of last year, and me and Nick thought, 'what the heck, let's go and inspire some people. Let them know that we have their back,' and here we are." More clapping ensued. 

"Fantastic reason. I would've been happy if it was just to come see me," Floor said, with some members of the audience laughing. 

"Oh, that is most definitely reason numero dos," said Nick, which elicited more laughs. 

"I'm very glad you said that. Let's get on with some questions, shall we?"

"Oh, I'd like to start with a confirmation from you, if you wouldn't mind, Miss Floor?"

"Not at all, Mr. Wilde. Lay it on me!" Her exaggerated response even made the viewer snicker. 

"Whenever you did something bad, did your parents ground you, or floor you?" The audience couldn't get enough. They were having the time of their life. Nick could take over as host and probably no one would mind. Hopps seemed to be having less fun, just sighing at Nick's fun.

"I apologize for his behavior, Miss Floor," Hopps said. "He's such a little kid most of the time."

"You heard it here, folks! Our heroes are people too!" This did give Hopps a chuckle this time. "Now let's get a bit serious shall we? I know from some of the news that you two did yet another act of incredible service to our city. Is there anything you can tell us about that?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Hopps, "but since most of the details are so sensitive right now, it's best that we just let actions speak instead of words. Take it away, Nick."

As prompted, Wilde got up from the sofa and pulled confetti out of his pocket, throwing it in the air comically. He pulled even more confetti from his other pockets, culminating in a sign stating "Nighthowlers are now illegal in Zootopia." Needless to say, more celebration happened. 

"And I assume you had something to do with that."

"Indeed," Hopps said. "To spare the boring details, illegal trading of Nighthowlers became a big problem after the Bellwether incident. With the help of over ten precincts, we were able to find enough evidence to take down the top supplier, Royclaw Corporation. To make up for the fact that Nighthowlers also served as insecticides for farming, me and Nick decided to look for our own alternative, with the help of most of the farmers around Zootopia, including my very own family. We were able to find a new species of plant that had the same effect on insects, but no effect on mammals." 

"Can we call this new species of plant Night-Warmers?" Miss Floor said. "I'm feeling very cozy right now imagining a world without those stupid purple plants."

"I'm sure the scientists will take that into consideration," said Wilde. 

A few more minutes passed, with the pair answering question after question, the audience not getting tired of them at all. The viewer looked to their phone and saw that apparently, both officers were breaking a viewership record, earning about twenty-three million consecutive watches. It was an insane event. 

"Before we go, Miss Floor," Wilde adjusted himself on the sofa. "We'd like to announce something else that will surely make a lot of people happy. Maybe a few of them mad, who knows."

"Ohhhh, what is this piece of news you're giving? You guys are spoiling us tonight."

The viewer noticed the pair began looking a bit sullenly, like it would be difficult to say what they had to say. "The truth is…we're-"

RRRRRRIIING 

RRRRRRIIING

A phone was ringing. Oh no. 

"Oh, excuse me a moment," said Nick, pulling out his phone.

"Don't hang up, Mr. Wilde!" Said Miss Floor. 

"Huh?" He asked, confused. 

"It's tradition in the Olivia Floor Show that a guest must answer the phone and have it on speaker for the duration of the call."

"Gosh, that is so good, Miss Floor," Wilde praised. "Great prank. It's an unregistered number, so I don't know what to expect."

Answering the phone, Nick put it on speaker and held it close to his mic. The viewer became very interested about this. This didn't happen often, and it was mostly always chaotic for the poor person who decided to leave their phone unmuted.

"Hello?" Wilde asked with uncertainty. 

"Nicholas Wilde?" The person on the other end responded, a girl. 

"Yes, that is me."

"Oh, thank heavens it's you, Mr. Wilde. First off, I wanna thank you for what you did for me last year, it was a very unforgettable ride and I definitely enjoyed it. Very savvy with the tongue, I must say."

"SAM?" The viewer, Gerald, recognized that voice instantly. "WHAT IS SHE DOING TALKING TO HIM!" 

Miss Floor was agape, aghast, and anything that meant surprise. Even the audience didn't know what to do, stuck in between laughing awkwardly and screaming. Hopps was frozen in her seat, covering her eyes with her ears. 

"Sam? The otter Sam? Sam the otter?" Nick asked. 

"Yeah, Sam, the otter you pulled out of a speeding car? You took me to the Gazelle concert, remember?"

"She never told me any of this!" Gerald said, screaming at the TV.

"Okay, Sam, I'm gonna need you to turn on your TV right now."

"What? What for?" This time the audience did know what to do, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Just do it."

After some silence, Sam's voice came out doubled and echoed. "Huh. Weird. You're in the TV right…now…please don't tell me that's live, Mr. Wilde."

"I'm afraid so, Sam."

"This isn't being televised to all of Zootopia, is it, Mr. Wilde?"

"I'm afraid it is, Sam."

"And everyone can hear me? They heard everything I said, Mr. Wilde?"

"I'm afraid they heard every single word, Sam."

"Oh god…OH GOD!" She hung up, leaving everyone silent once again. No one knew how to go back into conversation or how to even process what happened. 

Except Nick. "I'm sorry Miss Ground. I should be Floored for this."

The audience laughed. Gerald laughed as well. Except for this morning, Gerald will never stop laughing at the hijinks that happen around Sam. 

"I'm so giving her a raise after this." He laughed until he teared up and coughed and until his sides turned painful.

Chapter Text

Tuesday

It wasn't true. She imagined it all. She was delirious. She took her bath, immediately fell asleep and just dreamed she called Nick, in the middle of a late-night show. Now apparently the most-watched late-night show episode ever. 

It was on one of those days that Sam just wanted to hide away and cry. She couldn't sleep from the embarrassment of it all. She didn't even want to check social media, knowing she was most definitely trending. She couldn't even distract herself by working, since it was her day off. 

Speaking of work, she was getting a call from Gerald. She didn't know what to expect. Please don't fire me, she thought. 

"...hello?" She asked weakly.

"PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA," cried Gerald, making Sam wince from how loud his voice was. She could almost feel the rain of saliva she would've received had he been there personally to laugh at her misfortune. " Very savvy with the tongue, I must say , hehehehehe." 

"Laugh it up, big guy," Sam told him sternly. She was in no mood for his mockery. "Did you call me just to bully me?"

"Au contraire, my dear server. I've come to give you the good news."

"Good news? What good news could there possibly be? I humiliated myself on national television!"

"And in the process became a sensation overnight! You will forever be remembered as the otter who crashed the wedding! Sam the "Unforgettable Ride" otter!"

"Wedding? What wedding?"

"Nevermind that. Can you come to work today?"

"What for?"

"There's a lot of people asking for you here. They want to meet you!"

"Gerald…did you forget yesterday at all? I got assaulted by my ex! Don't you think this is too much attention to have?"

"Hey, I wasn't the one who called Officer Wilde during a late night show to congratulate him for his lascivious acts!" 

"That was a mistake! I didn't do anything with him!"

"Tell that to the fanimals. They're calling you a homewrecker!"

The term Fanimal brought her back. A silly word, but one that described all of the fan groups for a specific type of media. Sam used to be part of a Fanimal group during her high school years, but quickly grew out of it due to how toxic they could become.

"Homewrecker? Oh God I'm gonna pass out," she sighed, touching her forehead and panting. "Why?"

"Most of them think you might have crashed their relationship reveal."

"What?!" It was too much. Too many revelations, one after the other. "They were gonna reveal their relationship!? This is bad! This is so bad, I'm sure they hate me now! Bury me in a ditch, please!"

"How could you not realize? They were wearing very suspicious clothes!"

"Clothes were the last thing on my mind, Gerald! I didn't even know they were on TV!"

"Anyways, can you come to work?"

"Over my dead body, Gerald! I'm not showing up anywhere near there today."

"Hundred dollar bonus today with a ten dollar raise on your pay."

"Say less," the otter said, hanging up and getting ready to work. 

"Otter reveals a dirty secret with Officer Wilde." By PenderLaw46 on Zootube. A recording of that event, lasting a total of two minutes and fifteen seconds, had taken the world by storm, and Floor was loving it. 

This is the most relevant she had been in years. The acquired interview with Officers Wilde and Hopps had already been an incredible success in viewership, as well as the most fun interview she had been in. She thought the call at the end soiled all of her hard work, but it only made her show much more viral. 

"Who is this Sam the otter?" She asked herself, as she started reading the comments of the video.

'This is straight out of a cartoon. If you told me this was AI-generated I would believe you'

'Oh, man, now I'm wondering what they wanted to say at the end. Relationship reveal perhaps? UwU'

          -'You shippers are weird. They're real mammals, you sickos.'

That thread turned into a flame war of about two hundred comments. She had no interest in reading all that. 

'God I wish I was that otter. *shivers violently*' 

She snickered at that. Very relatable comment.

‘Anyone see that? Just me? They were wearing each other’s primary colors. If that’s not a sign they’re together idk what is.

                         -Oh, for real, they’re not even hiding it at this point. 

"Floor! Get off your ass and come here!"

"Very colorful, Banshee," said Floor, getting up from her chair and going towards her boss' office. Yeah, she might have her own show, but she didn't own the partner company. That was Banshee, a tigress with an iron rule. "What do you need?" She asked, now at the mammal's office. 

"Close the door, please," Banshee said, and Floor obeyed, slowly sitting down at the other side of her table after closing the door. 

She gulped. "Did I do something wrong? I thought yesterday went pretty well."

"Oh, it went amazing, dear. Hopps and Wilde were simply spectacular. There was just one teeny tiny little thing that you forgot to do."

"Which is…?"

"That stupid freaking otter! Why did you continue with that prank if you knew this was an important interview!"

"I-it's a fan favorite, Banshee, I couldn't just not do it."

"Yes you could have!"

"We got more publicity from it! Shouldn't that be more important?"

"No, Olivia, it isn't," she said, putting her paws into fists and planting them on the table. "Hopps and Wilde are the most talked about duo in the history of Zootopia, and you wasted them. For a joke!"

She didn't want to lose her job. She went too far in her life to just lose it. "H-how can I make this better? You know I always do my part, Ban. How can I fix this?"

Banshee realized the tone of the rabbit and calmed down. "Don't worry. Your job is safe. But I do want you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"Find me that otter. I want to have a talk with her."

"That was pretty funny," I say to the groggy bunny drinking coffee next to me.

"No it wasn't, Nick. Now everyone thinks Sam is some kind of…harlot."

"But we know she isn't, and that's all we should care about. You're not angry at her, are you? I know she kinda ruined the reveal."

"Eh, it's fine. What's a few more months? Why does it need to be public at all?"

"Carrots, we talked about this. There's no backing out."

"Ugh, I guess," she said, taking another sip from her coffee. 

A funny thought crossed my mind. "Did you think that was actually another woman I was seeing?"

"Nick, you're insane, but you're not that insane."

"I'm very glad you think so. My insanity does indeed reach a limit."

"What did you think she called about, though?"

"Well, it was my emergency number. Oh, crap, it's my emergency number! I have to call her back." I grabbed my phone and went to dial the number that was saved on my recent calls tab. I smiled and looked at Judy. "Permission to call the other woman?"

She sighed. "I guess you can. My heart is still very much broken," she said, slumping on the table funnily. 

"Pawscar performance right there," I say. I focus on my phone and call Sam. 

It didn't take long for her to pick up. "Oh my god Mr. Wilde I swear to whoever is up there that I had no clue you were in a show and apparently I ruined your relationship reveal and that makes me feel absolutely horrible, wait are you in another show, lemme turn on the TV again just to be sure."

"Sam, calm down, please. It's fine, I don't hold anything against you. It was pretty funny."

The line was silent for a few seconds. "Even when I ruined your relationship reveal?"

"Who even told you that? You ruined nothing, Sam, okay?" Technically she did, but me and Judy don't hold that against her. It was a silly mistake. 

I heard a sigh at the other end. "You don't know how relieved that makes me."

"And stop calling me Mr. Wilde, please. I told you, just Nick."

"Okay. Thanks, Nick."

"So…" I tried changing the conversation, but it was a bit awkward now. "Why did you call me?"

"Um, you called me."

"Why did you call me yesterday, Sam?"

"Oh, that. I'm trying to forget that ever happened. It was to ask for help."

"So you do need help," I say, making Judy's ears jump at the thought of a new case. In order to indulge her and me not wanting to tell her the whole story a second time, I put Sam on speaker. "Alright, you can tell Judy and me what's going on."

"Oh Judy's there too? Judy I am so sorry, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"It's alright, Sam," Judy said kindly. "Everyone seemed to have fun with it. I just worry people will be mean to you."

"Oh I can handle that, you don't have to worry about it. Anyway, I was calling about an incident that happened to me yesterday morning."

"We're all ears," Judy said. 

Sam proceeded to tell us about Max, the most obnoxious mammal I've never met. He tried to change her name to Xam? To match his name backwards? That's not how palindromes work at all! That was not all that bothered me, of course. He threw a glass pitcher at her feet, and it made her bleed. I could tell Judy was just as furious. 

"I tried getting a restriction order on him," said Sam. "But he paid off the judge."

"What a scummy bastard," said Carrots, unusually swearing. "Do you know where he lives? Did he follow you home?"

"I don't know, and I don't know. But something weird happened when I left work."

"What was it?" I asked. 

"I saw a deer, just looking at me. It was really creepy. I took my scooter and left as quickly as I saw him."

Me and Judy gave each other a look. She nodded, and I addressed Sam again. "Sam, we can help you."

"You can? It's not a bother?"

"Not at all, Sam," said Judy. "You're a very nice mammal and you don't deserve what you're going through."

"That's very nice of you, Judy."

"Here's what we're going to do, Sam," I start telling her. "We're a bit caught up this week, so I'm gonna need you to hold up until next week, where one of my special agents will greet you and write down all the details."

"Yeah, I can do that. I'm a bit caught up this week too, so next week works."

"Perfect, then. Talk to you later, and forget about yesterday. It's water under the burrows."

"Will do, Nick. Thanks for the help," Sam said, and hung up. Judy looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"Nick, I might be wrong but I don't think you have any 'special agents' to take to Sam." 

"That's where you're wrong, Fluffy. I have just the perfect person to help her." I tell Judy, while also laughing sinisterly. 

"You're insane," she told me. She didn't mean it, though, just laughing and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I'm a lucky fox. 

Wednesday

Yesterday had not gone as awfully as she thought. Yeah, most of the patrons were just there to see her, but in the process she received the most tips ever, getting to a few thousand dollars, even more than her total savings a year before. 

Still, her popularity brought about the wrong kinds of patrons as well, asking her for her details or just plainly asking her to hang out after work. Clearly they thought she was some sort of escort, which was extremely disrespectful. She was just a plain old server, nothing more. 

She tried to protect Nick's honor as much as she could, saying she had never done anything besides talking with him. She explained that her wording at the time was just because she was nervous. Some people bought it, but others were too fixated on the crazier outcome of her being a past flame of Nick's, which, as Gerald told her, made for a good topic of discussion in the webs. She was too afraid of corroborating those details herself, so she took his word for it.

"Would you like a free sample, ma'am?" Said a female lioness at the grocery shop she was in. She was offering what looked to be shrimp-flavored popcorn. She wasn't much for shrimp, but no one refused a free sample. It was surprisingly tasty, but not enough for her to want to buy it.

But what if Nick wants to watch a movie after, she thought. Maybe the shrimp popcorn would be a great snack . After much deliberating, she snatched one of the bags, blushing. She didn't even cook for him and she was already thinking of what came after. 

Speaking of cooking for him, she had a hard time deciding what to actually cook. She could just try a shrimp-based recipe, but she thought that was too much of a cop-out. She could decide on a type of poultry, but even then she didn't know his favorite, and she wanted it to be a surprise. She spent about an hour coursing through the deli, trying to decide what food would go well for their…date? She could call it a date, right?

The search became even harder when she received a text from the fennec. It was a picture of an interesting-looking salmon, with a color she had never seen before. 

Fennick: Winner Winner Salmon Dinner! Meet Mrs. Frizzle. 

She cackled loudly, earning a few weird looks from the other grocers. 

Sam: That's the salmon's name? xD

Fennick: Indeed. The person who sold it to me gave it that name. 

Sam: Strange selling point, naming your food. What is that salmon, though? I've never seen it before.

Fennick: He called it a Socking Salmon. Apparently, it's really rare. 

Sam: Wow! Can't wait to see what you do with it. 

Fennick: Making it edible is the first step. 

Sam: Here's hoping!

"Crap. I really need to get something good now," she told herself. She couldn't just barge into his home with something he won't love. If he was going to far lengths to get something unique for her, she should do the same. 

This required an emergency. She called the only one who could help.

"Sam? Is something wrong?!" Said Nick Wilde, on Sam's phone. "Where are you? I'm coming over, just hold on!"

"No, wait, Nick, I'm fine! I just wanted to ask you a question."

"Oh, thank heavens," Nick said, breathing heavily. "I'm glad you're okay. I was just about to get in the car to get you."

"Sorry…I think it's better if I have your actual number, so you don't think it's something bad every time I call."

"Smooth, Sammers."

"You know that's not what I meant," she said.

"I know. I'll text you the number after we're done with this call. What did you need to call me for, anyway?"

"I got a question to ask you."

"Hopefully I got an answer for ya. What is it?"

"...what do foxes like?" she asked shily. 

"Beg your pardon?" Nick said, his voice sounding shaky.

"Like…to eat."

"Sam, I'm very flattered, but I am spoken for."

"I know that, Nick! I'm not an airhead! I knew you two were a thing from the beginning." That was partly true. She’d had her suspicions when she went to the concert with them, but she hadn’t spent nearly enough time with them to really tell.

"Whatever do you mean? How do you know you've met her?" Asked Nick, with a dismissive aura.

"Call it an otter's intuition. A-anyway, what do you usually like to eat? I'm kinda…going on a date with a fox."

"Not me, right? I’m joking. Anyways, wow! And you're cooking for him on the first date. Boy, you know how to earn a fox's heart." 

"Is that how Judy earned it?" She asked him smugly. He couldn't be the only funny one. 

"...moving on, I personally enjoy really good shrimp-fried rice. Never goes wrong. You can also try some poultry. Honestly, any bird works, we foxes love birds."

"I'm just having so many second thoughts. He already came to my restaurant and ate fried shrimp, but I don't know if he'd like shrimp again."

"Do I know this fox? I know everybody in this city, maybe I know him."

"He's actually called Nick, just like you."

"...really, now? He wouldn't happen to be a fennec fox, would he?"

"Yeah, he is! How'd you know?"

"A…fox's intuition. Are you sure this fox is safe? I mean, did he do anything weird when you met him?"

"He was just really sad that his wife left him, so I let him eat for free."

"For…free," Nick said, in a skeptical voice. "And you said his wife? What was the appearance of this wife?"

"Why are you questioning so much? Is there something wrong?" Sam asked him. Nick was acting strange. 

"No, no, Sam, of course not. I guess I still don't know everybody…"

"Okay…" she said slowly. He was definitely hiding something. 

"A-anyway, my fox's intuition tells me that this fox will really enjoy a seafood risotto with mostly squids and crab meat, gotta go, Judy's calling me," he said quickly and then hung up. Sam wondered what that was about, but she received a great cooking idea, and she would definitely use it. 

"Winner Winner Risotto Dinner," Sam said, smiling. 

Thursday 

"Uncle!" Greg called the fennec loudly. It was nearly noon, and Finnick felt like doing nothing that day. Ravi’s ‘you suck’ speech really gave him a lot of fish for thought (Darn that otter for all those fish puns). It’s not like he never thought of turning a new leaf and having a more lawful profession, it’s just that the opportunity had never been placed upon him. Besides, he was comfortable as a hustler. There was no need to have a nice house, with a fine view of the city, a nice lawn, a grill to call his own, a treehouse, a pool, a garden, a nice playground for his future children to play in. All material, no soul to it. He was happy with his van, and his two pillows that he called beds, and his bats, his knives, his loneliness… 

“What do you want, Greg?” he asked the arctic fox. Sometimes he wondered why that kid spent so much time with him. 

“You have to see this!” Greg screamed again, shoving his phone into his face, close enough for his eyes to be damaged by the light at full brightness. 

“Alright, alright! Don’t blind me, kid!” he took the phone and moved it to a more comfortable watching distance. When his eyes adjusted to the phone light, he was greeted with the sight of his mortal enemy and ex. Ex-best friend and work partner Nicholas Wilde, alongside his toy bunny, on the talk show he refused to watch three days ago. Huh, he’s gotten fatter, Finnick thought. And what the hell is he wearing? Purple looks awful on him, and why the hell do I even care??  “Greg, I told you I don’t want to watch this!”

“Wait, just trust me! Watch it to the end. Something surprising happens.”

“Does he publicly humiliate himself? That I have to see!”

It all went like a normal talking show. Boring questions, and even more boring answers, with the most lazily-written jokes ever created. It all took a turn when a ring from a phone happened. The white rabbit explained that Nick had to answer the phone and put it on speaker. Immediately, Finnick got excited, hoping that the call was actually really embarrassing for the fox. Serves him right, he thought. 

His smile faded when he heard the voice on the other side of Nick’s phone. Sam the otter talking to Nick Wilde. His greatest fear.

“I wanna thank you for what you did for me last year.” Okay, he clearly was nice to her last year. Probably talking about the concert. Nothing to be alarmed about. 

“It was an unforgettable ride and I definitely enjoyed it.” Okay, weird choice of words there. Thankfully, she must have just meant when she took her and Judy to the concert in his car.

“Very savvy with the tongue, I must say.”

“WHAT THE HELL?????????????????????????????????” That one sentence brought him out of his depressed stupor, launching himself out of the bed as though a cannon. “If this friggin’ fox did anything to Sam, I’ll never forgive the bastard!”

“Uncle, calm down!” said Greg, hiding behind the table in fear of becoming a casualty of his anger.  “I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way. Didn’t you tell me Nick only cares about Miss Hopps?”

“He’s a conniving snake! A traitorous fool! He would do this just to spite me!”

“Uncle, stop saying that about Uncle Nick, I mean it!” Greg said, with his face turned to wrinkles, facing the fennec with purpose.  “All you do is say how awful he is when you were the reason he probably wanted to leave in the first place! I’m tired of your misplaced anger!”

“Misplaced anger?! He left us! I get to be angry at him for what he did! Isn’t that fair?”

“Life isn’t fair, isn’t that what you said? It isn’t fair for me to be hearing everything that comes out of your mouth and for me to just ignore it all day long. It’s tiring! I love you as much as I love him, but if you stop it with your petty attitude I’m gonna find a job somewhere else!”

His eyes softened. He really did it this time. The prophecy that Ravi foretold for him was becoming true. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just get Greg to leave him too. He wouldn’t handle it. “Greg, I…” he started speaking softly. 

“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Greg said, lowering his head in shame. Finnick tried with all his might to say Greg was correct, that he really was an idiot who messed up every relationship he was ever in. But that didn’t come out of his mouth.

“Why’d you even show me the video?” Finnick asked, barely a sound out of his mouth, still ashamed. 

Greg sighed. “Finish watching it. You can look it up, I’m out for the day. There’s some leftover chicken in the fridge if you want it.”

“Wait!” Finnick said, getting in front of the back door of his van. 

“What is it?” Greg asked, in an unusually dark tone that he never gave Finnick. “I can’t stay, I have to find work somewhere since you don’t want to work at all this week.”

“Right,” Finnick said. He had called the week off, and somehow Greg still came to hang out with him, bringing him food whenever he could. “I guess you can go do that. Be safe out there, okay?”

“Whatever. Finish the damn video.”

Out the door he was, never to return for the remainder of the day. Finnick cursed silently and tried as much as he could to forget what he had done, but his negative thoughts became even louder. To distract himself, he decided to heed to Greg’s advice and looked up the cursed video of Nick talking to Sam. It was funny, now that he thought about it. It was his nightmare personified, and he’s sure if Nick ever found out, it would be his nightmare too. 

There was only about a minute left of the recording. Nick was kind enough to stop Sam on her tracks. There was no trace of embarrassment on his face, his shit-eating grin always prevalent. He was never a straightforward fox, just telling Sam to turn on the TV. When she did as instructed, her voice turned grim, and unfortunately for Finnick, it made him laugh. 

It was definitely embarrassing for the poor otter, but all he could think was her corroded face as she realized she was speaking to all of Zootopia. It was endearing. When she began to repeat Mr. Wilde multiple times after every sentence, it made him laugh. When Nick began to repeat I'm afraid at the beginning of every sentence, it made him laugh. It was mundane, it was awful, but it was real. It was honest. An honesty he didn't have. 

When the video was done, so was Finnick's smile. He began to think of all that had happened that week, from Sunday all the way to now. All the fun conversations with the otter, all the laughs he had shared. Something important revealed itself to him. 

If I am ever truly honest in my life, I want it to be with her.

He was going to tell her the truth. Much sooner rather than later. But not today. Today he'd think of her as the otter who took pity on him for being sad. He'd think about the genuine disgust she had shared about his wife (which was just Nick in a dress, don't ask). But most importantly, he'd think about genuinely being liked by her. She wouldn't talk with him at all if that wasn't true. 

He knew it wouldn't last, but he had to be honest. He just had to. 

S U N D A Y

The day was finally here. It was time for Sam to meet with the fennec fox again. She bought the risotto, she bought the fish, and she was ready to cook. Apparently, he was also preparing a tasty salmon for her, so she will most definitely enjoy that. She was wearing a very simple outfit, considering the fact she would have to cook, so she didn't want to mess up one of her good dresses by getting them stained or pressed up if she wore an apron. She went for a  blue denim skirt combined with a simple light blue blouse topped up with a soft white jacket.

She was nervous. It was one thing to text, but meeting in person was a much different ordeal, not to count the fact that she kissed him the last time they met. 

She became less nervous when she found a mammal struggling to get out of a gutter. She was walking around the Rainforest gathering a few other things for her encounter with the fennec when she suddenly discovered him. How one gets stuck in a gutter is beyond her, but she wouldn't leave without helping the poor guy. With a little bit of digging through trash(Someone did a crazy job clogging it), she managed to grab the scruff of his shirt and pushed him out. 

"To whom do I owe the pleasure of my rescue?" He said, sounding like a knight from the olden days. Now that she looked at him better, he didn't look a day over twenty. 

“Hehe. I’m Sam. Who might thou be?” she played along, making the arctic fox grin. 

“Gregory Wildkins,” he said, meeting his paw with hers, shaking it. “But my friends call me Greg.”

“Well, Greg, how come you got stuck in that gutter?”

“Funny story, how about we skip it for now?” he said, very nervously. It was suspicious to Sam, but she didn’t want to pressure anything out of him. It wasn’t really her business. “Anyway, since you really did me a solid, how about I help you somewhat? Do you need to go somewhere? My car isn’t parked too far from here.”

“Oh, no, Greg, you don’t have to do anything for me, really. I just did what any good mammal would do.”

“I insist, Sam. I can’t possibly leave without having done anything.”

Sam sighed. She wasn’t going to get rid of him, so she might as well use this opportunity. “Fine. I’m going to Savanna Central. A place called Sandy Lofts. Do you know it?”

“Do I know it? HAH!” he said. “My uncle lives there, as a matter of fact. You’re in good hands, Sammers. Let’s go!”

“Alright, thanks. Wait, what did you call me?” she asked him with interest. 

“Sammers? Sorry, I tend to give nicknames to people, I’ll stop.”

“No, no, it’s okay, just… never mind.”

“Okay, then. I’ll go grab some of my stuff in there, just hold on a sec,” Greg said, his head entering the gutter for a second time. 

“What were you doing on the roof?” Sam asked him.

“Oh, uh,” he popped his head out to talk to her but hesitated to answer. “I was…checking for cracks. Yeah, I was looking out for the people here. I heard some houses are at risk of their roofs falling.”

“That’s horrible!” Sam replied. “Did you find any?”

“Any what?”

“Cracks.”

“Oh! No, no cracks! So, it’s all good! There, found ya, dude!” Greg said to a plushie, suspiciously resembling him. Very quickly, he hid it in his bag before she saw more of it. “Alright, then, ready to go?” He asked her, to which she nodded, quietly following him to his car. 

For a young fox like him, she really didn’t expect him to own such a vintage car. She didn’t know much about them, but it was obvious this wouldn’t have been cheap to buy. The breeze as the car accelerated through the streets was a nice feeling on her fur after her hectic morning of collecting the last few items for their cooking date. She was also extremely nervous about meeting him again.

“Something on your mind, Sam?”

“You could say that. I have a lot on my mind, actually. There’s this date I’m going to, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Ohh, a date, huh? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Some fox I met at the restaurant I work at. His name is Nick.”

Greg’s eyes widened. “It’s not Nick Wilde, is it?”

“Oh, gosh no, hahaha,” Sam said. “Between you and me, I’m pretty sure he’s taken already. He’s very close to Officer Hopps.”

“Oh, yeah, my unc thinks that too. He was always suspicious about them. You hear they almost confessed on national television?”

“Y-yeah, I did hear about that,” said Sam, now covering her face and looking out the window. 

“But then they got interrupted by an otter who called Nick. Someone named S…Sam…” Greg gulped, looking at the otter and back at the road, and then back at the otter again. With panicked breathing, the fox turned the car and parked it in a grocery store parking lot in a matter of seconds. 

“Uhh Greg?” Sam asked, getting scared about his sudden reaction. 

“Y-you’re Sam? The Otter Sam? Sam the Otter??”

Oh. boy, here we go again. “Well, yeah, my name is Sam, and I’m an otter. I don’t know if there are other otters named Sam but surely there are. Sam isn’t that unique of a name.”

“You w-were in the show! You called Uncle Nick!”

“It was an accident!” Sam defended herself. “I didn’t know he was on a show. Wait wait wait hold on a second! Backtrack right now, what did you just call him?”

“Uncle Nick?”

“Why did you call him that?” Sam asked him, now becoming the panicked one. “What is going on? How do you know Nick?”

“I’m sorry about this, Sam. Really really sorry!” said Greg, clutching his head with his two paws. 

“Greg, calm down! I need you to tell me what’s going on! How do you know Nick and how is he your uncle?”

Greg sighed. “I can’t believe I’m betraying Uncle Finnick like this. I’m sorry, Sam, I’m gonna tell you the whole story.”

“What whole story? What the hell is going on? Who is Finnick?!” the otter screamed at the fox, wanting answers. 

“You’re about to find out,” said Greg, who began to tell her everything that had happened the past week. 

Nothing beats the aroma of great food. A combination of elements that create something majestic, with a taste able to bring people to tears. That’s how Finnick’s food felt right at that moment. He channeled his inner Gordon Lambsay and cooked possibly his best meal yet. If Greg or Nick saw him, they would laugh, but he didn’t care. Humming a song that was currently stuck in his head, the fennec did the last of his preparations, making sure the salmon was cooked to perfection. He was in a good mood. However the night ended up, he would be happy knowing he tried being honest for once in his life. Hopefully it gives him more of a motivation to continue on becoming a better mammal. 

Tommy the bear was not kidding. The salmon smelled amazing, and his seasoning was definitely not the reason. There was something in that fish’s diet that made it incredibly delicious, and he couldn’t wait to see Sam’s face when she tried it. He had given her instructions to go to the entrance of Sandy Lofts, and he would discreetly take her to the alleyway of the apartment complex (with witnesses of course) and finally tell her all of his lies. Whether she hates him or not after the fact, he will accept that. Just being honest for once was enough for him. He wanted to prove Ravi wrong on at least one thing.

He heard a soft knock at the back of the van. It was really quiet, like they were trying not to be noticed. Finnick even thought he might have been hearing something else, but nope, a knock came again, much stronger than the last, actually startling the fennec. He checked his phone. Sam hadn’t messaged at all. She should’ve been on Sandy Lofts by now. 

A stronger knock was heard. “Alright, alright, don’t break my car down!” Like usual, Finnick would grab his bat and open the van. Usually, when one doesn’t even say who they are when they’re knocking, they usually mean bad business, and in Finnick’s profession, it means most people that knock at his door. With a flick of the latch holding the door in place, he swung it outwards and put on his angry face, making sure the people outside looked at his bat. “Who is i-what the fuck?”

It was Greg, with his paws joined in prayer, silently mouthing I’m Sorry over and over again, while also trembling. To the right of him, to Finnick’s obvious discomfort, was the face he least wanted to see looking at his van. 

“Hello, Finnick, ” said the otter, very visibly angry, with her eyebrows furrowed and her arms crossed. “May I come in?”

The fennec, lost for words, let go of the bat and stepped aside, allowing the otter to jump into his sanctuary. He didn’t know what to do. So far, Sam was quiet, just observing the new surroundings. Greg, still in his praying position, also entered.

“S-Sam, I can explain,” Finnick tried to say.

“Samantha’s my name. You don’t get to call me Sam. Ever. Are we clear?”

Finnick nodded weakly. “S-Samantha, I-”

“I counted seven,” she said suddenly, sighing and sitting on the couch. 

“W-what?” he asked her.

“Seven cuts on my feet. Three on my right foot, four on my left. I could barely walk the first two days, but I still went out to work, to get more money for your stupid food!” she threw a bag full of groceries at his feet. “Is it all true? Is all of what Greg told me true?”

“I-I don’t know what he told you.”

“What a dumb otter, right? Such a dumb otter that she completely believed my plot to get free food. Faked a wife, faked a job, shit I even faked a fucking house!”

“Samantha, please, I was gonna tell y-”

“But not after me feeding you again, right? Not after taking full advantage of my kindness!”

“That’s not true! I-I didn’t tell Greg, but I planned to tell you! As soon as you walked into Sandy Lofts today.”

She looked at him furiously. “Well, at least that’s not a fake place you conjured up just to hustle me again.”

“I was completely honest with you after that! All of those texts. Everything that I’ve been telling you there is true.”

“Not that Nick was your ex-partner, or that you despise him for leaving you behind despite clearly having the worst living conditions any mammal would want. Nick was smart, leaving you.”

Finnick deserved this beatdown. He wasn’t angry at what Sam was saying, because really it had been on his mind for months. Sam was being the more honest one out of the both of them. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“What does apologizing do now, after you already emotionally manipulated me? You know, my life was actually going great before you showed up. Right after your little free food fiasco, it all seemed to go down on the poor Sam the Otter, and apparently, nothing happened to you. Not one thing granted me karmic justice. You wanna know how I got these cuts? I don’t care if you don’t want to know, I’ll tell you anyway. My sorry excuse of an ex-boyfriend barged into the restaurant, got angry at me, said all sorts of terrible crap about me and threw a glass pitcher at my feet. In front of hundreds of customers!”

“Oh my god,” Greg said, his first words since the encounter began. “Sam, I’m so sorry-”

“You don’t get to call me Sam either, Gregory, now shut it! The adults are talking!” Greg did as instructed and shut his mouth. Finnick looked at Sam, and then at her feet, which were visibly bandaged and some of the cuts were still bleeding. “And then,” she sniffed, a few tears getting out of her eyes. “Just to try and get some help, I call Nick, only for him to be in the middle of an interview, and now people think I had sex with him! That I’m his goddamn mistress!”

The salmon was still heavily cooking. A certain smell had given away the fact that it was now burnt, and it kept on cooking. Finnick stayed glued to that spot, wanting to listen to everything Sam had to say. The least he can do now is listen to her.

“You know the worst part? I was so blinded by every other horrible shit happening in my life that I didn’t even hesitate to get close to you. Gerald warned me, but I didn’t listen. I texted with you. I had so much fun, I would never think you were anything else than a poor fox whose life had not gone as well as he liked, just like me. In that, I’m sure we both found common ground. I was so stupid!”

“You’re not stupid, Sam-”

“I was so happy,” she interrupted him again, her tears still falling. “I was so happy to meet you today. This entire week, all of the terrible shit. I just went along with it. I thought ‘ It can’t be that bad! I’ll go on a date with this fennec, he seems like a swell guy!’. But it’s just as cursed as ever. Seven cuts, seven days.”

“Samantha, at least let me say something.”

“You have until midnight to text whatever you want to me before I block your phone. After that, I’ll do my best to forget about you and your tattletail nephew. Don’t worry, I won’t report you to Nick, although I really should, but just for the heck of it, I’ll keep being good ol’ Sam, the nicest person you could ever meet.” After saying that, she got out of the couch and stepped out of the car. “For what it’s worth, texting you was pretty fun, whether or not that was the real you,” she smiled at him one last time. Finnick didn’t have time to return the smile before she went back to her angry face, which morphed into a saddened face. “You didn’t need to lie. I would’ve given you the food. It would’ve been a pleasure to help you…” she wanted to say something more, but hesitated, instead just lifting a paw and waving at him slightly. “Bye then.”

With that last sentence, the fennec looked at the otter go. Hopelessly, she walked into the night, slowly but surely disappearing in the infinite darkness of the road back to the Rainforest.

Chapter Text

Actually, screw cooking. 

Those were the thoughts running through Finnick's head, having taken five shots of hard liquor at that point. The bartender, a good friend of his, knew not to say anything about his sorry-looking state. The bags under his eyes had bags, his fur was unkempt and dirty, and he was pretty sure he forgot to take his ear infection medicine, which kept him away from, well, infections, while on his many jobs. With ears as big as his, any amount of weird crap was bound to get inside them. Either way, this time was the best for drinking, especially at a bar such as this, without much activity in the early morning hours. Drinking with loud people was an annoying venture without any friends.

He felt just a tiny bit, a very tiny bit bad about leaving Greg alone in the van. He was part of the reason why he was here, but the boy was still someone he cared about, despite going behind his back and slipping his secrets, which were going to be revealed by Finnick anyway. He got the outburst he expected, but she found out the wrong way. For that, Greg deserved at least one night where the tod didn’t talk to him. It was better that way, anyway. Nothing good came from words. 

"One more, Bo," he said to the horse on the other side. "I ain't done yet."

"You gonna be done anytime soon, though? I'm not about to drag you out of my bar if you pass out."

"Man, why the long face? I will cause no trouble for you. Have I ever done that before?"

"Yes," he answered right away. The fennec grumbled and just got on with his drinking. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a group of mammals talking very enthusiastically about something. He couldn't help but catch a bit of that conversation. 

"Let me tell you, she was so surprised, dude, haha! She never expected me to be there," an otter with a black and white shirt with letters spelling out Otto on the front, said very loudly. Finnick was getting a headache.

"Who are those guys?" He asked the horse.

"You don't wanna know. They're bad news."

"And why are they at your bar?"

"Business is business, Finnick. I know you know that."

He knew. He nodded and took another swig. Despite his indifference, his ears kept picking up noise from that table. 

"Sam's such an idiot, man. Even after I was annoying the heck out of her, she still kept thinking she was better than me, acting all courteous and crap. I snapped, threw a glass of water at her, and got out of there. It's too fun to mess with her."

Sam? thought Finnick. Were they talking about the Sam? He was an otter like her, but that didn't automatically mean they knew each other. However, that story he was talking about with the glass of water at her feet, was very much the story Sam had told him. He might have been surprised she was there, and his mind might have made a multitude of ideas to try and save his ass, but he still listened. Her feet had seven cuts from that. Still, it's not like he cared anymore. Sam made it very clear that he was dead to her, so why should he give two craps about a very abusive guy bragging about physically hurting her and clearly having no qualms about doing it again? Why should he care that she could be in danger for a second time and get even more hurt than just cuts on her feet? Yeah, he had a deadly crush on her but it was all for nothing. He didn't care at all. Not. one. bit.

"That bitch is glad she caught me on a good day. I better not see her anywhere again, or-"

"Or what, buster?" Finnick said loudly, turning his chair towards the otter at the table. "What are you gonna do?"

"Who's asking?"

"You blind? I'm asking."

“You deaf? I’m asking who are you to ask me that?” He got up from his chair. “This don’t concern you, fox.”

“I think it does, a little bit. Why are you abusing girls? Didn’t your mother teach you good manners?”

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to butt in on other people’s conversations?”

“Wait, Max, I think I know who that guy is!” claimed another otter at his table. The otter whose name seemed to be Max looked at him. “That’s Finnick F. Volpe, a con-mammal of Savannah Central. He’s been active for a lot of years. They say that's not even his real name.”

The otter grew a questioning face, turning back to the fox. “What my buddy said is true?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he said, not caring that they knew who he was.

The otter walked over to the barstool at the right of the fennec. He had a smile on his face. “In that case, I’ll buy you a drink. Don’t wanna disrespect someone as important as you.”

The sarcasm was more than evident in the otter’s face, but Finnick went along with the charade. “I suppose some hard apple cider wouldn’t hurt,” he told the otter. 

“A bottle of hard apple cider for me and my new best friend!” he said to the bartender, waving around a few bucks in his right paw while also grabbing Finnick’s shoulder. The fox noticed the paw was tense, a grip strong enough to dig into his skin. The fennec paid no mind to it. Bo came to deliver the bottle of cider and put a glass in front of each of them. The otter opened the bottle and poured a decent amount on both glasses. As soon as he stopped pouring, the fennec dug in, savoring the cider in his mouth before it descended down his throat.

“What’s the F. in your name mean?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But for me, it does, Mr. Volpe. That’s how I know someone’s character.”

“Just by their middle names?”

“By their full name,” the mustelid said, taking a sip of his cider. “A person that hides their middle name is also hiding a part of themselves.”

“So what’s your middle name then?”

“Maximilian M. Otto.”

“See? You’re hiding it too.”

“Simply a stylish preference. I don’t care to hide anything about me.”

“That much is clear,” said Finnick, joining the otter by taking a gulp of the cider. The quiet persisted for a long time. The fox didn’t know the angle of the otter. Despite being good at reading people, Max was not an open book whatsoever. He was shut tight. There was nothing he could discern about him from face alone. He would need something more than a poker face.

“So,” the otter began. “How long have you known Sammy?”

This took the fennec by surprise. “Who is this Sammy you speak of?” he tried to fool him.

“You think I’m stupid? You don’t seem like the chivalrous type.”

“Because you don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, no, Fin,-”

“Don’t call me that,” the fox interrupted.

“I know a lot about you simply by looking at you.”

“You’re full of shit,” Finnick said, but he wasn’t so sure about his own words.

“Did she go down on you? I gotta tell you, she has quite a majestic mouth. Nice and cozy.”

“You son of a-” The fox rapidly turned to the otter, furious, showing his fangs and growling. Despite being able to hide his emotions most of the time, that comment about Sam had gone too far. Unfortunately, that reaction gave it all away.

“See? You do know Sammy! What a coincidence, don’t you think?”

He groaned again, cursing internally that he had let his inner feelings slip like that. “And what If I have?”

“Well, all I’ll say is that she’s off-limits.”

“Off-limits? How?” he asked, acting stupid. He needed to be sure about what Max meant.

“She’s still mine, no matter what. She’s a difficult otter, but soon enough I’ll make her obey me again, and we’ll be together forever.”

The fennec gripped the glass dangerously, his claws unsheathed, making a mark on it. “What makes you think she’s the kind of otter who would submit herself to a lowly mammal such as you?”

All Max did was laugh incredulously. “Look who’s the pot calling the kettle black! Holy shit! She did a number on you, huh? Don’t tell me anything, let me guess,” he adjusted his throat, and started talking seriously. “Naive little otter goes to work one day at her restaurant. Hustling fox enters said restaurant, faking some kind of sob story, which makes the otter give him free food. Fennec ends up having feelings for said otter, and they start hanging out. Soon after, she discovers how the fennec swindled her for free food, and she completely breaks down, telling the fennec how much of a horrible person he is. And now, he’s at a bar, drowning in his sorrows because he finally realized no one will ever love him because love is for people who are good and honest, something he clearly isn’t. I hit the nail on the head, Mr. Volpe?”

“You say a lot of uninteresting words, Mr. Otto,” Finnick simply said. “I just have a few ones to say to you: Touch Sam the otter again, and it won’t end well for you. Capiche?”

The otter just looked. His eyes widely took in as much of the fox as he could. He got up from his spot at his side, not before gathering the full bottle of cider. He took a couple of steps toward the table where his cronies were still present and then looked back again. “Sam is always meeting the most interesting characters, isn’t she?” He gives no warning as he swings the full bottle at his head, easily breaking it. This made the fox fall out of the stool and onto the hard wooden floor of the bar. He was now face down.

“Hey! No fighting here, asshole! Get the hell out!”

“Watch your mouth or you’re next, horsey!” he said, laughing some more. “I’m gonna have my fun. Take a smoking break.”

The horse saw the fox motionless on the floor and looked back at the threatening otter with fear. He wasn't about to mess around with someone like him. “Screw this,” he said, leaving through the back door.

“Pawn, go guard the front. Don’t want anyone else to come in.” Pawn, another otter, got up from his comfortable seat and moved to the front like Max had ordered. “Now, Fin, repeat back to me what you just said. Slowly this time. I wanna savor every single word.”

The otter kneeled and grabbed the fennec by one of his ears to turn him around and inspect his damage. A small flow of blood had formed from the base of his head down to his neck, staining parts of Finnick’s muzzle and right eye. His ear was twitching. His left eye was still open, looking at the otter with a smile, “Touch…Sam…the…otter…again-”

He was interrupted by a right hook, Max’s left paw holding onto his shirt. “Slower.”

The tod kept his smile. “And… it… won’t… end… well… for you, Maxwell”

The otter looked even more irritated. “It’s Maximilian!” this time he chose a head butt, which in all honesty was pretty weak to Finnick. He just chose to not be a smart ass and keep shut about it. 

Blood came out of his nose. He took out his tongue and licked it off. “Do you think I could get more cider now? My fur’s kinda sticky from the one you threw at me, hahahahaha!”

“You…you insufferable little fox! Beg for me to stop! I won’t stop beating you until you do!”

“So that I can satisfy your ego, Maxwell? Come on, you’re talking to the hustle king here. I know everything there is to know about you now. This little tantrum of yours? Boy, you can’t stop breaking things can’t ‘cha? It’s so childish.”

“I’m gonna show you how childish I can be,” the otter backhands the tod, slashing his left cheek with his dull claws. “Why won’t you fight me? You scared?”

“Nah. Just don’t think it’s worth it, right now. I already said it. Touch Sam, that’s it for your life. Touch me? Well, nothing like some manhandling to spice up the evening, eh?”

This did take the otter by surprise. “You disgusting prick!” he let him go, only to get up and kick him in the stomach. Despite both being around the same height, the otter was still stronger, having a lot of built-up muscle in his legs and arms. “I’m not afraid of you. Sam will never get rid of me!”

“Well…” the fox attempted to get up, cleaning off some of the glass still in his clothes and wiping some of the blood off his face so that he could open his right eye. “We’re at an impasse then.” He managed to go back on both feet and now realized their height difference. If Finnick were to look straight, he’d be staring right at Max’s neck, but his eyes were focused on the otter’s own. “You’ll just have to keep hitting me until you’re tired. Cuz I’m not turning back on my promise to beat your ass if so much as a claw of yours touches her. She doesn’t deserve you running around trying to hurt her, and yeah, maybe your story was right and she broke my heart, but I broke hers first, and I won’t stop fighting until that heart of hers is mended again.”

The otter whistles. “Wow… what a gentlemammal you are. I thought you only needed a few words. That was quite a mouthful.”

Finnick grins again. “Words are good when it counts. Like right now, I don’t need to throw a single punch to win this fight. You’re so small when I look at you. Throwing yourself at fights you know you’ll win, getting a kick out of making people feel vulnerable under your weight. Well, I’m not that mammal for you, Maxwell. I don’t beg, I don’t kneel, and I sure as shit won’t make you feel any pleasure while you’re doing this. In the end, even your buddies might leave you, to find something better than what you offer ‘em. When that day comes, I’ll be right there to see it. If I haven’t already killed you for hurting Sam, of course.”

A small silence, and then long hysterical laughter ensued from the otter, not believing that someone was brave enough to go toe to toe on him like that. “You’ve got guts, Finnick, I’ll tell you that,” he said, getting dangerously close to the fennec again. He didn’t waver, however. Finnick wasn’t afraid one bit. The otter aggressively grabbed the hem of his shirt again. “Now, what do you say we end this, hm?” He unsheathed his dull claws once again, and Finnick just looked at them with an air of boredom. He would not show fear. Fear is weakness. He doesn’t have to pretend much, though. Max is as pathetic as they come, a violent boy with no future on his paws. Just a lifetime of needless violence.

The slash never came, as a flash of light hit the bar counter with extreme force, then landed on the floor. Max released him, curiously wanting to inspect what had caused such damage. It turned out to be Pawn, his crony who was tasked with watching the front of the bar. His face was beaten up completely, and his back had gotten a bad hit when it crashed with the counter. 

“What the hell? Who did that to Pawn? Go look, you idiots!” he directed himself to the other friends still sitting at the distant table.

“Release him, and I may let you live,” said a voice in the front. Entering the door, they finally saw the culprit. A very muscular arctic fox, very angrily looking at them both. A closer inspection would let Max know it was a woman. She was cracking her knuckles and looking at him with a sadistic smile.

“I ain’t sharing him with you, Himmel,” said Finnick.

“I don’t see you punching him.”

“Who the heck are you?” asked Max in confusion.

“A friend. Finnick partner sent me.” From the back of Himmel came another arctic fox, this time a young male with a fox band shirt, also looking at Max with anger. Finnick sighed. He didn’t expect to see the young fox again until sunrise.

“You better let him go, bozo,” Greg said, trying to sound intimidating with his voice. “You don’t wanna see what she does with her hands!”

“Pretty sure they all saw it, Greg, I mean look at that guy,” Himmel said, pointing to the otter whose shit had just been rocked by her fists, sleeping soundly on the ground. Was he sleeping? Finnick couldn't really tell.

“I’m hyping you up, Himmy! They gotta know you mean business.”

“They already know, look at that guy!” she reiterated.

“Shut up, both of you!” said Max, getting out a tranq gun. “None of y’all are rescuing this fox. He chose to disrespect me so now it’s time to give him a lesson. Guys, beat the shit out of them!” He addressed the mammals still sitting at the table, but they didn’t move. “I gave you an order!”

“Hehehehe, they’re scared of Himmel,” Himmel said. 

Finnick could swear that Max’s face was getting red. He probably had never been as angry as this in his entire life. The otter didn’t hesitate and aimed at Himmel, intending to shoot her. He was too slow, as another shot of tranquilizer knocked the gun out of his paw and pinned it to the wall. He looked to the side and saw another white figure, nonchalantly drinking some booze she had probably taken from the bar, leaning on the counter. “‘Sup, seabitch? Gonna let him go now or should I aim for your gonads this time?”

“You too, Skye?” Finnick asked, scoffing. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“You clearly do, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. Greg was worried for you, dude.”

He was partly proud and partly angry, mostly proud. Greg had gone to great lengths to find him, even if he probably didn’t think he was in danger. Goddamn that kid , he thought with a grin.

“Uhhh, Max?” said a walrus, one of his buddies at the table. “I don’t think we should be messing with these guys.”

“And why is that, Teefs?” the otter asked. “What’s so special about them?”

With a trembling hand, he pointed to the vixen at the entrance. “Red-pawed Himmel,” and then pointed at the vixen at the bar counter. “Black-pawed Skye.”

“Am I supposed to be scared? I don’t know who they are.”

“They’re the Frost Sisters, you idiot,” said Finnick, still hanging in his grasp. “Queens of the Underworld.”

“And I’m Greg!”

“Well, former queens, but hey, we still pack a punch,” boasted Skye, still with a direct aim at the otter. “Now let him go before it gets ugly.”

Finnick looked at the otter, who was now looking in every direction as to what he could do to play this in his favor. He was cornered and he knew it. He also didn’t seem like the type to have many plans. Whatever he did, he probably knew it wouldn’t end well. With another small laugh, he pushed the fennec away. “Fine. You’re not worth the risk. You’re a weak mammal, Finnick.”

“Heh. Pot. Kettle. Black.” Finnick said, calling back to their previous conversation, making the otter seethe where he stood once again. “It’s been fun, Maxwell, but I’m past my bedtime and my mommy will get mad. I hope you understand.”

“This isn’t over, Finnick the fennec. We will meet again.”

“I bet you say that to everyone. It really loses its impact when you say it too much. Remember: less words do the trick.”

“Less talking, more moving, the fuzz might be here any minute, and Himmel ain’t going to jail,” said the menacing vixen. Finnick approached them but turned back to Max again. 

“Do not forget my promise, Max. I’ve lost people I loved for turning my back on them. That will not happen this time. Sam the otter is off-limits. She doesn’t belong to you or me. She is free.” For good measure, he gave the otter a cold look, his resolve not wavering, not even as his legs felt wobbly from the blood loss. He couldn’t help but tease him a bit more, culminating his speech with a cocky, “Ciao, bambino,” before being walked out of the bar with the help of Greg.

Greg wouldn’t consider himself a prideful fox. Most foxes in his life were extremely prideful, and didn’t admit when they were wrong, or whenever they needed to cry and wouldn’t, or whenever they needed to express any kind of feeling that wasn’t anger or lust. But Greg did do all of that. He cried whenever he was alone. Talked about his feelings with people that know jack shit about mental health, and had a lot of complex emotions. He was mostly devoid of anger, save for a few moments where he truly felt like he needed to bring out his evil Greg side like he had to do for his uncle Finnick. Lust? Just about as much as a twenty-something healthy young fox would have. His thoughts mostly centered on Himmel, and his usual celebrity crush of the month.

But admitting he was wrong for telling Sam the truth? Nope. That he wouldn’t do. He loved Finnick to death, but he could easily do a 180 and try to lie to save his butt. He’s selfishly done that before, and it never ends well. He saved him some trouble in the long run, he kept thinking. Although it truly was saddening to see such a nice person like Sam breaking down in front of two nobodies, Greg hoped it served as a wake-up call for the fennec. It surely seemed that way. The first thirty minutes after Sam left, the small tod stayed still, sitting at the edge of the van with the back doors still open. Moments after that, he took off, not telling Greg where he’d be going. Greg was afraid to ask.

He kept himself busy by cleaning up some of the messes in the van, like getting rid of the burnt salmon, which had smelled delicious when first he had come in, as well as taking out some of the trash. Might as well take care of his baby before he gets back. Maybe that could earn him some points to be on Finnick’s good graces again. He thought about texting Uncle Nick but ultimately decided not to, imagining the fox drowned in work and having to worry about Finnick too. This was a problem he could solve by himself.

By the time midnight rolled around, Greg began to feel worried. It wasn’t the first time the fox had come back to the van in the early hours of the morning, but this wasn’t a normal day when he went out for drinks for fun. He would be looking to forget what had happened that day, and that included anything from drowning in alcohol to just about jumping into oncoming traffic. This gave the Arctic tod a terrible sensation and decided to go look for him. Making sure the van was fully closed, the fox sped up into the night to look for Finnick. But not before recruiting some help.

“So let me get this straight,” a tired-looking vixen said. “Finnick is heartbroken because his otter girlfriend-”

“Not his girlfriend, just a person he hustled and then tried being friends with,” Greg corrected.

“Okay then, so his friend chewed him out for being a hustler, he felt bad about it, and now he’s roaming the city alone and with a death wish?”

“I left out some important bits for the sake of time, but that is the jist of it.”

“Greg, you buffoon! You didn’t think to get him sooner?”

“I thought about it, but I thought he wanted to be alone! I was the one who told her about him, so he’s mostly angry at me.”

“What he wants doesn’t matter! He’s unwell right now. We’ll discuss this later, we’ll go get Himmel and look for him together. He can’t be too far.”

Skye’s ride was a much more impressive machine than Greg’s Zoodan or his uncle’s van. It was a white moostang with red stripes, and just a look at it gave away how powerful it was. It was clear that her mechanics business had boomed impressively, which had led to her being able to build her dream car from scratch. Himmel’s home was only a few blocks away from Skye’s abode, and while this mission was about tracking Finnick, he couldn’t deny his excitement in being able to see the beautiful vixen again, who could easily crush him in between her paws like a noodle. Just his kind of woman. Focus, Greg. Uncle comes first. Himmel hadn’t been too excited about being woken up, but seeing that her sister truly cared about what happened to Finnick, she didn’t hesitate to hop in the car to look for him as well.

Greg wasn't that big of an idiot. He knew his uncle could get in trouble, especially with his very, veeeery short fuse. Not to insult his height, but the guy packed a lot of anger for such a small body. What he didn't expect, however, was to see his opponent completely unscathed, with Finnick receiving all of the punches. It didn't make any sense. His face had an otter-made slash and a cut across the back of his head that had started wetting his shirt with blood. Mixed with the blood, Greg could smell he was also drenched in hard apple cider. Apple particles were still sticking to his fur, and some had gotten inside his ears. He was due for a shower.

He was sure he'd never forget the way that otter looked at Finnick so hatefully. If he hadn't been there, he was sure it would've been a much worse outcome. If he had just come an hour later, where else would he have found Finnick? Thrown out in a trash can, stabbed to death? Hanged, maybe? Greg became nauseous at the thought. He was in the back of the car, Himmel to his left. Finnick was asleep on his lap, with a bandage around his head. Greg pressed on the wound slightly to let the fennec rest. Skye took a moment every now and then to look at the fennec, glancing at Greg with a disapproving look, and shaking her head in disappointment. Greg noticed this. He knew Skye was pissed at him. But what else could he have done? The fennec didn't want to see him. It's not like he planned for him to get hurt. Still, trying to excuse himself did not shake away the guilt. The fact of the matter was, he got hurt, and Greg had come too late to prevent it. 

"Want me to drop you off at Zyg's?" Skye asked him.

"That would be great, thanks," Greg answered. 

"You sure he don't need stitches? No hospital?" Asked Himmel.

"No. No hospital," Greg said. "Uncle hates them. He's not exactly on the right side of the law most of the time. They could call the police. I can patch him up just fine."

"Okay. If you sure," said Himmel. Greg warmed up at her worry and gave her a warm smile. In all honesty, it would be the first time he did this to his uncle. His wounds had never been severe enough that he couldn't do it himself. But this time he was drunk and with a possible concussion. No way he can do it alone. 

"We're here," Skye said, pulling over by the gas station named Zyg's. "For the love of all that is holy, don't let him out of your sight for the next month or so. The last thing he needs is to be alone right now."

"Thank you, Skye, really. You too, Himmel," Greg said, carrying Finnick gently and opening the back door. 

"Don't mention it. He's my friend, and I hate to see him that way."

"Want me to visit otter who fought him? I could give him a beating," the stronger sister said, cracking her knuckles.

"Not necessary, Himmel. Sleep well, you two."

With that, Skye took off, leaving the pair at Zyg's, a 24-hour gas station that also had showers inside. It was practical for them due to how cheap it was to rent it, as well as the other useful cheap items they can buy. It was also very close to Sandy Lofts, where Finnick's van was always usually parked. With the fennec still in his arms, he pushed the door open and began gathering some medical materials. He got gauze, bandages, Q-tips to get rid of any excess apple from his ears, as well as some painkillers for his future hangover from the alcohol and pain from the wounds. After gathering everything he needed to cure the fox, he headed to the counter. 

"One shower, please," said the fox to the person heading the counter at that hour, a middle-aged anteater with a bored gaze. Another great thing about this establishment was how little the employees cared about what went on in the late hours of the night. As long as you kept to yourself, they wouldn't ask. The anteater collected the money Greg gave him in cash, put the items in a bag, and gave him the key for shower number seven.

Greg opened the door to the showers, which was a big enough space for both of them due to being aimed at larger predators like leopards and lions. Thankfully, the settings for the shower were at different heights for separate mammals. Greg turned the valve and the shower head started spouting water at the floor. Getting out of the blast, Greg realized there was still one factor needed if they were to get fully clean. Greg took off his clothes, hanging them at the top of the door, and then started doing the same for the smaller fox. Greg was not a prude. He had seen his uncle naked before, so it did not bother him. Adjusting the heat settings to only be slightly warm, the fox began to clean the fennec, using a brush and some soap. He started from the nasty cut on his head, only using his paws to clean it. At this point, Finnick seemed to be awake, and it kept puzzling Greg that he made no attempts to let go of his grasp.

"If you're going to ask, let's get it over with now," said the fennec, still getting his head cleaned from all the blood and cider.

"I know better not to ask, uncle. I'm just glad you're okay."

"It wasn't worth it. I didn't want to fight. Even if he's the one who hurt Sam."

"Hold on, that's his ex? Now I'm definitely curious, how did you not punch him?"

Finnick sighed. "Cuz I don't wanna be the guy to throw the first punch anymore. I told him if he touched Sam, then I'd mess him up."

"How would you even know if he did? Let me remind you that she doesn't want anything to do with you right now."

"I'd find a way. Maybe stalk him or whatever. Just because she hates m doesn't mean she has to suffer from an asshole."

"On that, I agree. He seemed so violent."

"A coward is what he is. I wanna see him go against a lion for a change. Not that it'd matter, cuz I could beat him just as easily."

"That's the uncle I know," Greg grinned, finishing up cleaning his head and back. "You wanna do the front yourself?"

The fennec nodded, starting to clean up his belly and unmentionables. After all was over, Greg began his treatment, administering antibiotic creams on both the slashes and the head wound, as well as ear using the Q-tips and ear medicine on Fin’s large lugs. After that, he used bandages and gauze to seal both openings, using a handkerchief on the finer details of his fur to get rid of the last bit of dried blood.

“There’s no way you’re putting those bloody clothes on again, I bought a cheap shirt and pants for you to put on.”

Finnick didn’t complain. He just wanted to get to his van and sleep for five days. It seemed he hadn’t gotten a break that entire week. He would also not be keeping himself busy chatting up Sam anymore, so he had nothing else to do but sleep. After putting on his new clothes, Greg offered to carry him, and he didn’t say no to that either. Now at Finnick’s van, Greg gave him some painkillers to be able to sleep the night. Finnick felt himself about to pass out. He really was exhausted from the long day, but he still had something else to do before he gave himself up to the arms of Moorpheus. He was sick of people walking out of his life.

“Alright, you’re all set, uncle. I’ll go sleep in the front.”

“Wait, Greg,” Finnick said, grabbing his arm with the little energy he had left. “I’m… I’m sorry, man. All this time, I’ve been a huge ass to you, and you don’t deserve that. I know I’m a terrible guy, but…don’t…” his eyelids felt like ten-pound weights. It wouldn’t be long now. “Don’t leave me too, please,” were his last words, before all he saw was black, and a small waiter with glasses took his order with kindness, happy that he was there.

Greg’s eyes couldn’t help but widen as Finnick’s closed. His sincere thoughts were nothing short of shocking. He had never heard him feel so beaten down; so destroyed before. He thought Finnick had already been through enough pain to be closed off forever, but he was wrong. Nick leaving had filled the cup to the brim, but Sam had brought it down. He was all empty now. Greg had underestimated Finnick’s strength, and he would do all he could to fix this. He looked at his sleeping face, which he now knew was filled with sorrow, and couldn’t help but give it a soothing kiss where his head cut was, also caressing his damaged cheek. While just a whisper, he garnered the strength to say something important, but that he wasn’t ready for Finnick to hear. “I could never leave you, Dad.” With pride in his heart, the young fox joined the tiny bed, sleeping comfortably with one of the mammals he loved most.

Chapter Text

She’s tired. So very tired.

Her feet hurt from all the walking of the day, and it was still a while until she got back home. She hoped to find an empty gondola where she could sit and rest, otherwise it was going to be quite a painful journey. What was she talking about? It was already painful, in more ways than one. In all due honesty, she didn’t want to break it up like that. There wasn’t even anything to break! They weren’t an item, just some mammals that decided to text each other in the pure effort of becoming friends. Maybe something more if the cards were right, but why was she kidding herself? It seemed like everyone she took a liking to would let her down in the end. Max? Complete and total disaster of a person. Nick? (Which she now knew was called Finnick. Was that even his actual name, though?) A manipulator, only texting her so he could leech off more money from her. Did she still feel bad that he actually seemed to live in his van? Absolutely, who wouldn’t. Sam wasn’t kidding when she said she was nice, and as angry as she was, it still pained her to see the fennec in such a state. He doesn’t care about you, Sam. Leave it alone . She couldn’t be sure that was true, either. The fennec seemed very penitent, and that salmon was actually smelling incredibly delicious. Her stomach started to churn. She should’ve taken her food back, now realizing she had thrown it on the van floor in anger. Now she had to go and cook something when she got home. She couldn’t turn back either, she wasn’t about to turn back on her fury just because she was hungry.

Realizing her glasses were wet with tears, Sam took them off and started to clean them with the rag she always kept in her back pocket. In her temporary limited vision, she saw a light in the horizon steadily approaching her location. She was on the sidewalk, so it was obviously some sort of car passing by, so she didn’t pay any attention to it. Until it started to become apparent that the car was starting to slow down, ultimately stopping a few meters in front of her. Sam put her glasses back on and noticed what type of car it was. A white limooseine, at least as large as a sleeping giraffe. The headlights prevented her from looking at the driver, but her gut told her it wouldn’t matter who was driving, but rather the passengers inside. Not trusting it whatsoever, Sam decided to take a slight detour through one of the many avenues and alleyways. She didn’t know this part of town very well, but it wasn’t that difficult to follow the signs. Through the many alleys and shortcuts she saw other unfortunate souls like Finnick, mostly predators, who were sadly confined to a life in the streets. A fox asking for coin, a weasel selling bootleg movies, a tiger sleeping on a cardboard box that was half his size. She became more curious as to what Finnick’s life had been. Had he been homeless forever? Did he have a family? Was Nick living in the same conditions before Judy showed up? She started to imagine what it would be like for her if she became a vagabond. She didn’t think she’d survive for long, probably struggling to even get a few scents to pay for decent food. Not to mention the possibility of her getting snatched to participate in some sort of illegal dancing club, where dancing would be the least she would do. Shaking her head in disgust, she paid no more mind to it, she went on her merry way. A few more quick steps and she would be at the gondola station that would take her home.

Wishful thinking. The white limooseine she had previously seen was back, and now it was clear that it was her it wanted. More than scared, she was getting pissed. Her feet hurt, she was emotionally drained, and she was hungry enough to eat raw fish, bones and all. Her fear masked itself into a ball of anger, and instead of running away like she would usually do (Not like she was ever in these kinds of situations to begin with), she decided to confront the limooseine head on, and ask what the heck its business was with her. She approached the car, strutting with her paws in exasperation, ready to give the stalker a good scolding. Before she said her first words, which would’ve been in the nature of What the fudge is your problem? Don’t mess with me!, the window at the very back of the car opened. With a little more apprehension, she approached the window, but was still much too tiny to peer inside. Seeing that Sam made no effort to try to open the door, the unexpected passenger let himself be known. It was an arctic fox, a much older one than Greg was, possibly in his high 30s, looking at her with curiosity. 

“Excuse me, sorry for the chasing and all that, but you are quite a slippery otter. Don’t worry, though, we’re not gonna do anything to you. None that you wouldn’t consent to, at least. Sorry, bad joke, hehe,” he spoke, with a surprisingly chipper tone. Much too cheerful for her liking.

“Who the heck are you?” she asked, not as aggressively as she hoped to be.

“Are you perhaps Sam the Otter?” he said, ignoring her question. “They call you Magnificent Ride Otter? Savvy with the Tongue Otter? Fox-Lover Otter? Homewrecker Ott-”

“Okay, I get it! Yes, that’s me,” she said. She didn’t want to waste her breath lying. She also had a feeling that this fox already knew that, and was just saying it out of hundred percent confirmation. “What’s it to you?”

“Ehem, I would like to invite you to dinner at the magnificent rooftop of the Sky’s Hoof, the most elegant skyscraper in Downtown Zootopia.”

“Tempting offer, but I don’t just get in random stranger’s limooseines. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to head home.” Mammals were growing desperate these days. Trying to lure her with food at a fancy place was not enough to woo anyone, and she didn’t have a death wish to go somewhere with anyone she didn’t know. She turned back and headed towards the Zebra crossing that led to the station.

“We’re not exactly strangers,” another voice joined in, making Sam stop on her tracks and turn around, her eyes widening at the sight. Crap. She was looking at the face of a white rabbit with red eyes. It couldn’t be anyone else. She had been invited to dinner by Olivia Floor herself. Craaaaaaaaaaap.

“I will be there for one hour and then I’ll leave,” Sam gave the conditions of the dinner. “If at any point I feel threatened I will leave and report you to the police, with evidence, because there are Jam Cams all over the station!”

“Sam, please,” said the rabbit, handling a cup full of wine. She was sitting opposite to the otter, the arctic fox sitting by her side, with a phone in hand, typing away at whatever. “It’s just a civil conversation between common mammals. Brandy here just doesn’t know how to act, and the driver is so ominous, parking in front of you like that.”

The fox directed his attention away from the phone to look at her, putting a paw on his chest. “Brandy C. Ling, at your service. I’m Flo’s secretary.”

“ Flo? ” Sam asked.

“What, no one’s given you pet names before?”

Like you wouldn’t believe, lady, she thought. “Just doesn’t seem professional, that's all.”

“Professionalism is overrated, am I right, Brandy?” The fox didn’t say anything, but nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I imagined. Not very professional to snatch an otter early at night to partake in your rich cult dinner, is it?”

“Okay, yeah, you got me there, but trust me, you’re not in trouble, this is a purely civil event. The boss just wants to meet you. And we are in no way a cult.”

“You know, all of this wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t let Nick answer the phone. I didn’t want to become… this,” Sam said, pointing at herself and her surroundings.

“Oh, come on, Sam, I’m sure you enjoy the attention, no? You’re the talk of the town, gurl!” she said, in an exaggerated accent.

“I prefer my anonymity, thanks.” All this attention had given her was a lifetime of embarrassment. Not to mention the fact that she also dirtied Nick’s reputation, possibly beyond repair, for her stupid words. Nick didn’t seem to blame her, but she couldn’t stop from blaming herself. There he was, making a new life for himself free of any drama, and then she came along to soil it all.

The red-eyed rabbit sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry for what I did, truly. In the end, though, we can’t really turn back time. I promise that like with any trend, it should blow over soon and you will be back to normal.”

“Thanks, I guess,” she said, and pondered back to the motive of this invitation. “Why does your boss want to see me anyway? They want an autograph or something?”

“Not really. She has some questions to ask about Mr. Wilde.”

“Questions about Nick? I barely know the guy, we’ve met like twice.”

“Reserve that explanation to the boss, please. Enjoy some wine, if you’d like. Completely free.”

Yeah, right, like I would get drunk at a place like that. The rabbit and fox began coursing through their phones, and Sam decided to do the same. She looked up the name of the place she was supposedly going: Sky’s Hoof. She opened a Zookipedia article and skimmed through it. The Sky’s Hoof, the tallest building in all of Zootopia, wide on the bottom and becoming progressively slim as it goes up, culminating on a small rooftop with a very expensive restaurant. The tagline read: ‘Any animal feels big up here!’

“You’re really gonna love the place, Sam. The views are certainly incredible,” said Floor, sounding like she was giving a pitch. No matter how safe they were trying to make her feel, this whole thing was very fishy. Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of her, and she also did not feel like staying home, knowing depression would set in. At least she’s glad she doesn’t have to work tomorrow. As she looked at her phone, she couldn’t help but notice a movement through the corner of her eye. Two white paws, one from the rabbit and another from the fox, giving each other a gentle squeeze. She didn’t want to make it seem like she had seen that, so she just kept exploring her phone, seeing more of the history of the Sky’s Hoof. It was apparently the oldest building in all of Zootopia, constructed right on top of the water hole where the prey and predator ancestors first shook paws and created the first pred-prey alliance. Since then, the advancements in building tech and the like led to yearly renovations to keep its foundation strong. It was a very historically significant building, so it made sense to have the utmost care for it.

She couldn’t help but gravitate back to the mammals’ still conjoined paws. Despite not really liking the fact she was being taken to a dinner she half-consented too, it made her think about how many more mammals were starting to be open-minded about these kinds of relationships. She smiled a little at the fact that she now knew two rabbit-fox couples. She predicted they would not be the last. Is it possible for an otter and a fox to do the same? No, Sam, stop thinking about that.

“We’re here! I promise you’ll have fun,” Floor said, opening the car door and letting her get out first. She contemplated running, but really she had already come this far, so why run now? Looking back, she saw Floor give Brandy a gentle pat in the shoulder as he exited through the left side of the limooseine, quickly joining the two. Sam finally had the courage to look at the very tall building, which made her feel incredibly tiny. She couldn’t even see the top from where she was standing, the nightly clouds stopping the view from reaching the end of the massive structure. 

 “You’re not gonna run off on us, are you?” she asked me, already at the foot of the luxurious double door.

“I came this far. No reason to run now.”

“That’s the spirit! The balcony awaits!”

Entering the building, the outside was nothing in comparison to the incredible view awaiting her inside. It was very modern, yet classical architecture like the ones she’d seen in a videogame. They had come upon a gigantic lobby filled with paintings of ancient animals, as well as bronze statues atop every pillar around the circular room. At the center of this lobby stood a cylindrical elevator that went as high as the otterine eye could see. She saw a fancily-clad family of cheetahs go up the fancy-looking elevator, which just seemed to swim up instead of move. All of this was very new to Sam, and the worst part? She liked it. But she couldn’t show it. All things considered, she had been kidnapped (consensually) and she was a prisoner (deliberately) and she couldn’t show signs of enjoyment to her captors (hosts). She remained with a frown.

“You ain’t slick, Sam, I saw that twinkle in your eye,” said Floor, holding Brandy’s hand. “Let’s get to the elevator, shall we?”

She felt like a third wheel, just following the couple around everywhere she went. It doesn’t help that she had “going-out” clothes, which made it look like she should’ve had a date. Technically she would’ve, had it not been for that dang fox, Sam thought. And so, the elevator rose with the three animals in it. Sam watched as the skyline of Savanna Central made itself bigger and bigger. All she could see outside were the bright squares symbolizing the windows. The building in front of the Sky’s Hoof was the heart of Zootopian Commerce and Banking, aptly named ZC&B. It was a more tame building in comparison to the one she was currently standing on. 

“Thoughts so far, Sam?” asked Floor, leaning into her (maybe?) mate.

“Eh,” she let out, but inside she was very much liking the view. Sam did indeed feel big, and they weren’t even at the top yet. 

“It gets better, darling. Soon enough, you’ll be the tallest otter in the world.”

“Unless there’s a taller otter somewhere in that party.”

Floor chuckled. “Look at that, you have a sense of humor. Ain’t she funny, Brandy?” 

“Does he have to agree with everything you tell him?”

“Absolutely not,” the fox, who up to this point had been absolutely quiet, had said. “It’s just Flo and I have a very similar personality. We laugh at the same things.”

“Then why didn’t you laugh now?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t?” he asked. “Could’ve sworn I did.”

Before she could ask how he couldn’t notice that he didn’t audibly laugh, or if he was simply teasing her, an audible ding sounded around the elevator. The top had been reached. “We’re here!” the high voice of Floor had become audible in her ears, but so did the sounds of the party in the balcony. Above her was only the night sky, closer than she had ever seen it before. Stepping out of the elevator, she found herself gawking at the other party guests, dressed in the most delicate apparel that was typical of a pompous rich party such as this. Still, she could not deny their appeal. She looked back at her own clothes, a simple green cardigan with a white blouse and brown jeans. None of the animals in there, who were mostly felines and one other canine here and there, had any glasses to speak of. She felt even more alienated. Who even was the boss? They all looked important somehow. Like that white tiger chatting up a lynx a couple feet away from her, probably feeding the cat many stories of his accomplishments to make himself seem like a much more impressive guy than he really was.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a dinner party? Where’s the dinner?” Sam asked. She really was hungry.

“The boss organized this party,” said Floor. “Until she isn’t here, there’s no dinner. Also it will be first come first serve so you better haul ass before all the kitties get your fish.”

“I am perfectly capable of eating other foods, thank you,” she said. She never had felt offended for being stereotyped, after all she did love fish, but the way it had come from the bunny’s mouth was very distasteful to the otter.

“Sam, honey, you really gotta chillax here. Settle down, talk to somebody, enjoy the balcony view! Maybe you’ll find a stud to take you home after,” Floor said suggestively, grabbing a martini on one of the tables.

“I’m kinda done with men for now,” Sam said, trying to avoid saying much information about the ‘date’ she had endured.

“Alright, suit yourself, but me and Brandy are gonna go mingle. Don’t you dare leave, hahaha. Just kidding, you can leave at any point, we swear!” With that, they left her to her own luck. She had a feeling they still wanted her to stay. She could very easily take the elevator back and not go through whatever the heck this was, but Sam was still curious (and hungry). For now, she decided to stay. She was not about to start chatting with a random stranger hoping for a one-night stand, she really wasn’t about that life, so she did the other thing that seemed the most fun in this otherwise dull rich people party.

Within a few steps, Sam had arrived at one of the viewpoints of the balcony, complete with stepping stools built into the ground so that the smaller animals could also appreciate the view. There was also a 25-cent-per-use telescope that she wouldn’t bother to use. Using the very useful stepping stools, Sam did feel like the tallest animal in the world, although with a severe case of vertigo, because boy was she high up. The view more than made up for it, though, as she stared infinitely at the views of Downtown and everything that surrounded it. She saw the tiny animals and the tiny cars going on about their lives. She doubted she could even try spotting Little Rodentia from up there. She could see Sahara Square and Tundratown, and the massive AC that kept those districts at opposite sides of the weather spectrum. Looking slightly left, she could see Rainforest District, the place that harbored her workplace, her home, her awful ex-boyfriend…her parents. She stopped herself before she could go any deeper, mindfully breathing in an out to prevent a panic attack. She wasn’t about to get one at the freaking top of the world.

“And here I thought I’d be the only otter in the party. Glad I was wrong,” a voice behind her said. She turned around to look, now calmer. It was a river otter like her, but much bulkier, with arms that alleged that she often went to the gym. She had on a black jacket on top a red blouse, along with a black skirt. “Wait a minute…you’re that otter, ain’t you?”

“Can I just say no so you can leave me alone?” she answered. She was over her fame status. She didn’t want it!

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t care about any of that. Just recognized you, is all,” the girl otter said, sounding very sincere. She quickly walked towards one of the tables, snatching two margaritas, and offering Sam one of them. “I bring thee a peace offering! For my uncouth behavior.”

Ok, she was funny, Sam admitted. And it was very nice that another member of her species was here as well. Suddenly, it didn’t seem that rare for her to be there. She kindly accepted the drink, taking a small sip. “You’ve earned a seat at the high table, mistress,” Sam followed along. “Do not mistake my kindness for forgetfulness. You have not yet redeemed yourself.”

She chuckled. “Otter Dynasty girl, nice,” she said, referencing the show they’d both been referencing.

“Don’t spoil me, I haven’t gotten to Season 7 yet.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, girl, I’ve heard Season 8 is a doozy.”

“Hey, I said no spoilers!” she said, chuckling along with her new otter friend. Man, she really made friends too fast. Maybe she should be less trusting. “Anyway, sorry we started on the wrong foot. I was kinda brought here against my will.”

“Oh my god, are you okay? Should I call the cops?” she asked, concerned.

“No, no, it’s fine. I came deliberately. They’re important people, so if they were to do anything to me, they’d be sued to hell and back.”

“Oh…uhhh,” she started, a little awkwardly. “Not to alarm you, but this building is owned by a very prestigious family. I’m sure they could just make you disappear. Like, completely vanish. As if you’ve never. even. existed.” 

This did alarm Sam. Why the hell did she have to get in a situation like this? Why does this always happen to her? Can’t she have a moment of peace??

“Pffffft ahahahaha, your face right now is glorious, girl, hahahahaha,” the otter said, joking. “I’m messing with you, Glasses. I don’t know crap about who owns what or what owns who. I’m just here to have some fun.”

“You are insane! How could you say that to me? You don’t know the week I’ve had, lady!”

“Woah, woah, okay, sorry, not the time for jokes, I see.”

She gives a long sigh, and sits on the stool. “It’s okay. Don’t mind me. I’m just a laughing stock otter now. Laugh at the poor girl who fumbled her words on national television, woohoo!” She ended up gulping up the margarita in one fell swoop, feeling immediately woozy.

“Sorry it seemed that way,” said the otter, sounding sincere again. “It has come to my attention that I don’t even know your name yet.”

“But you know me from telev-”

“Television? What’s that? I’ve never seen you before. You famous or sumthin?”

It shouldn’t work. That sorry attempt to backtrack shouldn’t work. But here was better than home. “Sam,” she said, quietly, but then a little louder. “My name is Sam. Yours?”

“Glad you ask. I’m Lillardinna.”

“Lilla-what?” Sam asked. She realized it was a very rude thing to say about someone’s name.

She grinned. She didn’t seem offended. “It’s a long story. My friends call me Lylla, though.” She held up a paw in front of her. Sam accepted it.

“Lylla it is,” Sam said. Lylla smiled again. 

“So, what brings you here, person I definitely don’t know?” Lylla asked.

“I was invited, actually. You?”

“What do you know? Me too! I’m on a date right now, but that guy is kinda boring so I slipped out. You know how slippery we can be.”

“Lylla? Where’d you go?” a voice could be heard from afar in between all the talking of the guests. 

“I think you should go to him?”

“Nah, let him find me if he wants me that bad. I’m playing hard to get tonight.”

“Well, you’re not really hiding,” Sam noted, trying not to laugh at her new friend’s antics.

“Shows how little he wants me, then,” At this point, she finished her margarita as well. “Mommy needs a refill. Want another one, Sam?”

“Uhhm,” her already blurry vision even with her glasses told her that it probably wasn’t a good idea to keep drinking. “Sure,” she said, ignoring the signs of her incoming drunkenness. 

“Coming up, sister,” she said, walking to one of the tables to get the drinks again.

At this time, a few clings and clangs were heard in the distance. The source came from a fork hitting gently against a wine glass, and the animal doing it was none other than a gorgeously dressed tigress, a beautiful tight red dress with a black ribbon in her bosom. She could see Floor and Brandy close to the tigress, who began applauding her arrival. Soon enough, all the other guests began celebrating her entrance. She must be the boss, Sam thought.

“Thank you everyone, thank you,” she said, making all the claps unanimously stop. She had a calming yet demanding voice. “I appreciate all that came here to see me. As you all already know, these past few weeks have been less than ideal for me. My dad and brother were the heart of our company, and now…it’s up to me to pick up the pieces,” she said, quietly and with sentiment. Sam wondered what had happened to her dad and brother. Did they die? It wasn’t for her to ask, though. As she was listening, Lylla also came back to her side, offering her another alcohol-induced cocktail. It was delicious. “It fills me with great happiness that you all came to wish me well, and I hope that those mindless rumors about my family go away as soon as they came. Without any preamble, please enjoy our carefully selected dinner! Sorry, guys, no red meats on the menu tonight,” she said, and most of them laughed. Joking about previously eating prey animals never fell well on Sam. While it was fun to riff on tragic things, carnivorism is part of why mammals like her were still seen as a threat, as someone that shouldn’t exist along with everyone else. Joking about eating your landlord, next-door neighbor who won’t turn off his loud rock music, or even eating the guy she tells you not to worry about, was never something the otter would laugh at. She guessed only the rich and powerful (and trolls on the internet) could get away with stuff like that.

“Uhhh, Sam?” asked Lylla. “Is it me, or is the big scary tiger lady looking at you?”

“Huh?” Sam asked. She was about to reprimand Lylla for calling her scary, but just a quick look at the tigress made the fact clear that she was indeed eyeing Sam rather ominously. The furs on her neck had started the process of piloerection, becoming as straight as the building she was standing on. They became even straighter as she realized the tigress was moving…towards her location. Floor and Brandy were behind her. “No, Lylla, I think you’re right,” she deadpanned. 

Within a manner of seconds, the imposing tigress was beside Sam. “Hello there, my esteemed guest. I see you’ve made some friends already.”

“I, uhhhh…” Sam could not speak. She was truly intimidated. 

“Holy shit, Sam, you were invited by her? Dayummm, look at you!” exclaimed Lylla.

“Would you mind, dear? I’d like to show Sam what we have in store, eating-wise. Would you be a sweetie and go somewhere else? A new batch of margaritas just came,” the tigress told Lylla. She didn’t hesitate to go straight to the margarita table either out of genuine want for more drinks (her second margarita glass was still pretty full) or because of the tigress’ very chilling face, who clearly very passive-aggressively had told her to go away. The latter seemed most appropriate.

“Sam, my name is Banshee. My family owns this building.”

“I-I thought this belonged to the government? It’s a historic building…” she said, still shily, but needing answers to that puzzling reveal.

“Heh, who do you think subsidized the repairs? Everything from the inside to the new exterior was paid for by daddy’s company. Due to awful circumstances that I don’t care to mention, right now I am the sole owner. Shall we walk?” she said, sounding less like a question and more like a request. One that she had to fulfill. So she did.

They approached a nearby table filled with chicken, fried rice, white rice…actually, every type of rice imaginable, including, ironically enough, shrimp-fried rice and risotto. She could see another table filled to the brim with sweets and pastries, like a chocolate fountain, puddings, flans, flambes, creme brulees, ice cream, you name it. Sam had a sweet tooth, and seeing that made her mouth water, even more than some of the delicious fishes that she could smell another table over. Not even expecting permission from Banshee, the otter began to dig in, taking a plate full of fish, and a few smaller plates filled with pastries and sweets. She set it on a nearby table and began to indulge. Banshee sat on a chair opposite to Sam.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying the food. Some of the best chefs in the world work for this restaurant. You are eating ice cream fit for kings,” commented the tigress.

“It’s really incredible. This salmon is also so freaking good!”

“You like it? It’s bred to perfection in this very restaurant.”

“Kinda weird it’s served as a buffet, though,” Sam said in between bites. “I’d assume you’d keep this under high maintenance until someone paid like a quintillion dollars on it.”

“Hmm-hmm, not quite. The fee to be here in this balcony is enough of a fee to cover for everything cooked. Ain’t you happy you entered here for free?”

“With all honesty? I appreciate the invitation, but I don’t feel comfortable owing that much money to someone I barely know.”

“Oh, please, Samantha. I treat my guests with respect. I wasn’t gonna let you pay for anything, especially with a guest as special as you! Tell me, how did it feel to be that close to Nicholas Wilde?” Banshee said, leaning on the table with interest. She wanted to know what Sam thought.

“Uhm, well…normal I guess?” she said, after swallowing her second salmon of the night. “He was very friendly with me and Judy. There was nothing inherently wrong about him. Besides, like I told Floor, I barely know him.”

“So, to be clear, there was no coitus between you two?”

“HEAVENS, NO!” She screamed, gaining some attention from the other patrons. “The video was misconstrued,” she said, quietly this time. “I was gonna ask him for help about something, because he gave me his professional number to call him whenever I might need legal help.”

“Last I heard, cops don’t offer domicile service,” the tigress said cheekily. 

“Well, he did, and not once did he try to pressure me to call him.”

“But come on, you can’t tell me you once didn’t think about the possibilities of having someone like him in your clutches.”

Sam looked at her with incredulous eyes. What was this tigress’s deal? Did she get invited to this party just to gossip and objectify Nick? She didn’t like that one bit. “No, Banshee, I don’t think I have, and you shouldn’t concern yourself with whatever it is I think or care about what happens in Nick’s life. What’s he to you anyway?” She came off passive aggressive. Well, more aggressive than passive, but the larger mammal’s train of thoughts were pissing her off, no matter how intimidating she might seem.

“What’s he to me? Oh, I’ll tell you, otter,” pure venom suddenly came out of her lips at the mention of her species. Uh oh. “He’s a first-rate swindler, a very skillful hustler, and an even bigger actor! He thinks that just by doing one good thing makes all of the terrible decisions that he made okay? Like they’re somehow forgotten? And how come he gets away with messing with us? With me? He will never reach my heights! He will never even fathom being someone like me. He is nothing, absolutely nothing!”

“Who the hell are you to say that?” Sam got up, climbing on the table to be at eye level with the tigress. She pointed an accusatory finger at her. “What’s got you so bitter that you gotta insult him like that? You can bully me and mock me all you want, but Nick has done nothing to you. I was the one who called that day, and that was a terrible mistake, but it happened. So you better lay off.”

She inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm herself. “Sammy, come on, aren’t you exaggerating a little bit?” She got close to Sam’s finger. If she wanted to, she could easily bite it off as easily as a toothpick. Her angry demeanor changed, and went back to her aloof exterior. “You really think Nick is who he says he is? Even you can’t be that naive. Haven’t you been lied to before? Haven’t you been terribly destroyed inside, and felt like you can just never move on? Because I have. A fox did that to me. And while it wasn’t Nick, a fox broke your heart too, didn’t he?”

Sam’s finger lowered in surprise. “H-how did y-”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, otter. You don’t get to be the business mogul that I am without breaking a few bones. You pull this move on me again, and there might not be an otter to see tomorrow.”

“Y-you can’t just threaten me like tha-”

“Threaten you? That was a promise, honey, so why don’t you behave, and listen to what I have to say?”

She couldn’t believe this was happening. She was jumping from trouble to trouble, like she had walked out of a hurricane only to end up swallowed up by a twister. She looked at Floor, who seemed to have heard Banshee, even at the distance that she was, and her eyes were as wide as Sam’s. Was she also a victim like Sam? Did she not realize what was happening?

“W-what do you even want with me?” Asked Sam.

“What people like me so often fail to obtain,” she took a moment to light up a cigarrette, giving it a gentle puff, and releasing the smoke into the atmosphere above them. She held Sam’s hand softly. “A friend. Someone who understands my pain.” A FRIEND? Sam thought, who up to that point had only felt offended and insulted by all the things the tigress was saying.

“W-Why choose me? By your logic, I’m nothing to you.” And by your words too.

“You are mistaken. I don’t hate you, or other people who go about their lives scrambling to get money. After all, that is the government’s fault. Even my success began with millions upon millions of inherited wills. Life was chosen for me. Even so, it is people like Wilde who hurt the economy in the first place. I suppose you haven’t heard he evaded taxes?” Sam’s puzzled look gave it away. “Thought so. And instead of having to pay for it when he became a cop, he got pardoned for it. You save the city and all of a sudden you’re the government’s pet. Did he think about how that could hurt other people who needed his taxes? Of course not, because he’s a self-centered egomaniac whose sole purpose in life is to leech off of anyone, including that rabbit of his, which, ew, by the way, to think they were actually going to confess in Live TV that they were in each other’s pants every night. Gosh, it makes my fur shiver. And Floor was gonna let it happen too. She’s lucky I need her, otherwise I’d drop her and that stupid assistant of hers.”

Despite all of the words that had come out of her mouth, Sam’s answer to her question had not come at all. She’s insane, Sam thought. If she had thought before that rich people were on a completely different planet in comparison to middle class mammals, she didn’t expect it to also be true when it came to intelligence, let alone basic mammal decency. She should’ve imagined it, though. What disquieted her the most about her was her seeming obsession with Nick. Whatever reasons she had said for her dislike of him, Sam knew there was something deeper, something that the tigress would not reveal to her. She was ready to leave the party now and never come back.

“I have to confess, though. At first, I did hate you. You ruined their interview, and arguably made them even more popular than they already were. But then, I realized, we’re pretty much the same,” that comment made Sam nauseous. Maybe it was the wine she had begun heavily drinking. “We’ve both been framed for something we haven’t done, have gained unwanted attention, and most of all, we’ve been swindled and betrayed by foxes.”

“I-I’m nothing like you,” she was confident enough to say.

“What’s that? Speak up.”

“I said I’m nothing like you! You got me very very wrong. I don’t hate foxes, I never did. Just because one of them decided to mess with me doesn’t make their entire species awful. I can say the same for my own species. My psychopathic ex is an otter who won’t leave me alone! He threw glass at me, made me bleed. No fox has ever done that to me. Now if you’ll excuse me, the food was great, but I gotta leave.”

“You want to leave? Back to your shitty apartment, with your alone self? At least here you’d have someone to talk to!”

“I’d rather stay alone in my apartment than to keep sharing the same air as you! Maybe it’s the altitude, but the air here must be poisonous!”

“Wait, Sam-” the tigress was about to put her gigantic paw on the otter’s shoulder, but someone else stopped her in her tracks.

“Don’t touch her,” said someone behind her. That someone being Lylla, who appeared to have gotten significantly more intoxicated than before. Without giving Banshee any time to process who it was that had raised their voice at her, the woozy otter had majestically thrown the contents of a margarita she had on hand directly on the tigress’s eyes. How she managed to perfectly throw the drink from so far away directly into the much bigger mammal’s eyes, it wasn’t for Sam to find out right now, because as soon as Lylla did that very reckless maneuver, she grabbed Sam by the paw and ran towards the elevator, immediately pressing the button to go down to the first floor. 

“MY EYES!” were the last words she heard as she began descending. Margarita cocktails contained lime juice, so Banshee was definitely not having a great time.

“What the heck was that?” she confronted the otter, who appeared to be sleeping while standing up. Her snores echoed in the elevator. “Hey! What the hell did you do?” she nudged on her shoulder.

“Huhwhat? Wassap? Ohh, it’s Sam. *hic* Howyadoin?”

“Do you not remember what you just did? You threw a cocktail at Banshee’s eyes! She owns this whole building!”

“*hic* I did? Good riddenz. She was bothering you, and you’re pretty cool.”

She had never heard someone mention her as cool. It was a nice thought. “Well, you did save me, so thanks. How’d you even get so drunk?”

“Margaritas, they *hic* can pack quite a punch,” she said, walking back and forth around the elevator like she would fall off at any minute. Sam decided to hold the otter before she fell, as they finally touched ground again. They were back to being some of the smaller predators in the city, no longer feeling like giants. Sam did not look back, though, trying very desperately to get them both out of there before Floor tried to get her back. She shivered at the thought of Banshee chasing after them savagely, so she quickly grabbed a taxi and got them both straight to the gondola station of Savannah Central. It was then, as they were quickly away from the massive building, that Sam had realized an important fact.

“Wait, Lylla, where do you live?” she asked with urgency.

The otter seemed to be in a completely different dimension, staring at the ceiling as if she was looking at stars. “Muh name is Woolter Hartwell White, I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane on Outback Island, Zootopia, 87104, this is my confession.”

She’s out of it, Sam thought. She guessed that her date had not gone as well either, something she was very knowledgeable of. After all Lylla had done to get her away from the crazy rich tiger, she couldn’t just leave her to her own devices. Sam was not one to leave a friend behind. She just hoped this wasn’t a hustle this time.

“That’s it,” she made up her mind. “You’re crashing with me tonight.”

Lylla gave a smile of approval before she began snoring into the car seat.

Chapter Text

When he first awoke, it was silent.

It felt like he had been hit with the bullet train that he would see pass above him every morning. His head was a rattling mess of pain and heat, coursing all the day down to his spine and lower regions. His vision had been halved by a possible bandage around a third of his cephalic area. He remembered snippets of what had occurred the night before. Ingredients for food still lay on the van floor, and he could still feel and smell the aroma of cider on his sensitive nose. The smell of Sam, who had smelled of salty water and several concoctions of perfumes, and the smell of Max, putridity incarnate. He was dirty, inside and out, and he was pissed off that the male otter would even dare to touch someone as innocent as the server. Not that he was any better, he had hurt her too, but he was ready to confront her, tell her the truth, talk about it. He wasn’t ready to just be hit with it right away. All because he somehow managed to intercept her before he could. Wondering where his lousy nephew was, he began sitting up, noticing him messing up with the TV. He saw a mixture of sounds that told him that he was changing the channels to look for something to watch.

“Royclaw Corporation hit with another interesting story as B-”

* switch*

“Come with us into an interesting journey of the deep waters of Zootopia, still largely unexplored by mammal-”

* switch*

“I’m Judy Hopps, and I approve this mess-”

* switch*

“Jess, cancel all my appointments for the night,” a fox in a brown trenchcoat said to a very portly dressed vixen.

“Are you busy, Mr. Reynard? It is unusual of you to take a night off,” said the vixen, with a tone of voice that told Finnick she was older than the fox by a few years.

“Oh, but I am busy, Jess. I’m taking you out to dinner. And call me Quincy, please, Mr. Reynard makes me sound old.”

“And is there anything wrong with that?” she asked, seemingly offended.

He chuckled. “Touche. I hope that doesn’t make you change your mind about my proposal.”

“Not at all, Mr-, um, I mean, not at all, Quincy.”

“Great then. The investigation can wait for one night.”

“What the hell is that, Greg?” he asked, his voice not sounding like it usually did. He blamed it on his injuries.

“It’s Fox For Your Troubles! I don’t usually like this sort of thing, but it’s nice to see foxes be represented so highly in a TV show. It’s the hottest thing around right now, ain’t that cool.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Finnick said. He could care less.

“I made some coffee, I know you’re probably mega hungover.”

“What an astute observation,” he said, sarcastically.

“Not really, it doesn’t take a moron to see you look like shit,” Greg said, smiling.

“I’m cutting your face off one of these days.”

“You don’t mean it,” Greg said.

He was right, he didn’t mean it. Not after all the trouble he went through to get him, and not after the coffee and water that were standing by the bed. He gulped the water and then went on to the hot coffee, already alleviating his painful morning.

“We have to change those bandages too,” Greg said, getting up to start helping the smaller fox.

“I can do it myself,” Finnick protested.

“Now, now, uncle, it’s better if I help, okay? We can be done more quickly that way.”
He usually didn’t let himself be pampered that much, but he really was in pain, and it didn’t hurt to not be the tough one all the time, needing to do everything themselves. “Fine. Do your thing.”

He sat on the sofa and waited patiently for Greg to be done changing his bandage. He gave Finnick a moment to check his wounds, and really, the one that looked the ugliest was the quite large gash on the back of his head, almost reaching his forehead. At least his ears were intact, and no blood got on them, thankfully. Then he looked at his inflamed cheeks, caused by Max’s punches, and then at his clawed cheek. Dull and small, but still managed to do some damage. It might leave a scar. Once again, Greg had to cover one of his eyes in order to cover all the wounds needed, and gave him some painkillers. Greg made him a few eggs, which he ate quickly (He always had dinner, but Max kinda messed up his plans, so he was extra hungry) and laid back down on the bed.

“So…what are you gonna do? What’s the plan?”

“Plan? Whaddaya mean ‘plan’?”

“To try to make Sam not hate you.”

“Oh, that kind of plan. Honestly? Nothing.”

“What? You’re kidding, right?”

“Nah, I’m sure everything will sort itself out. Max ain’t doing nothing to her, and she can peacefully live her life knowing I’m not in it.”

“Oh, no, Uncle, you’re not doing this again,” Greg frowned, looking at Finnick very judgmentally.

"Doing what again?" 

"Giving up! You said the same thing when Nick left!"

"No I didn’t! I told him to do what he wanted and he did it!"

"That wasn't how you felt, though."

"How would you know how I felt?" 

"Duh, because I know you, and you're always trying to take the easy way out."

"Easy way out? Look at me, I'm covered in wounds."

"Wounds that won't matter if you don't try to patch things up with Sam. What are you so scared of?"

"Scared? I'm not scared."

"Sam too much of a girl for the great Finnick?" He asked smugly. 

"Don't make that face, you know I hate it."

"I'll stop if you change your mind."

"I'm not changing it."

"Then I won't stop."

"You're really going to torture me? While I'm in this sorry state?"

Greg, still showcasing his Nick-ish smile, replied, "Yes. Until you grow a pair and go to her."

"I'm not going to," Finnick said, pouting childishly and crossing his arms.

Greg slowly stopped smugly grinning and sighed. "Fine. I guess I really can't get through to you."

"You're finally learning," Finnick said, content that Greg wasn't gonna push the issue further. 

"I'll be on my way then. There's food in the mini-fridge whenever you're hungry."

"Wait hold on where are you going?"

"Oh don't you worry your sweet foxy tail. Just going for a stroll," Greg said, his eyes looking everywhere except Fin's own. 

"Greg?"

"Just a nice little walk," he said, slowly going to the van's door. 

"Greg, you wouldn't."

"A nice drive in my car."

"Greg you wouldn't do that to me, right?"

"Do what, uncle? I'm just going for an innocent little walk."

"You know where Sam lives!" He screamed, realizing the fact he had overlooked. "You drove her here yesterday! Oh my god! Greg, don't you dare, boy."

"It's all for the greater good, uncle. You'll thank me in the future."

"I-I'll clean your laundry! For a month! 2 months! Come on, give me something to work here!"

"As tempting as that sounds, your happiness is worth more to me than any laundry cleaning."

"Grrrr come back here! Greg, I'll hate you forever if you do this!"

"You don't mean that, bye, I love you, food in the fridge!" With that said and done, Greg opened the van door and left. Finnick could hear running noises from outside. If he was at his top potential, he could try and run after him before he did anything crazy, but right now he was the most tired he had ever felt in his life, and he admitted that the show that Greg showed him was starting to intrigue him.

He didn’t wait for lunch and just took the food from the fridge, sitting on the sofa comfortably watching the show. He will patiently wait until Greg eventually lands on the van disappointed. There’s no way he could single handedly get him another date with Sam. Absolutely no way in the world.

Right? 

When she first awoke, the otter groaned as she opened her eyes to a strip of light coming from a window. Said light came from the morning sun peering in through it. She could spot some greenery outside, immediately alerting her that this wasn’t her home. Oh no, had she done another one-night stand? Had she been brought to a stranger’s home while intoxicated and did the unspeakable? Lylla certainly hoped not. She had wanted something serious for a while, but that one mammal that could be her partner for life hadn’t shown up yet, and the date wasn’t going that well, as far as she remembered. 

On the upside, she didn’t feel sore, so action must not have occurred. However, she did have a head-shattering migraine caused obviously by the massive drinking she had partaken in last night at the Sky’s Hoof. She was covered by a very cozy blue blanket adorned with seashells and oysters. There was no one by her side, so maybe they had started to make breakfast. She did not want to spend too much time there. After all, she didn’t even know which person she was staying with. It could’ve been anyone! This apartment didn’t look like a rich person’s, though, so she could single out a lot of the people in that party. Curiosity got the better of her and she got up. She still had yesterday’s clothes, not a single piece of them broken or torn off. She was completely intact. She gave another sigh of relief and thanked life for not making her stuck with a psychopath.  

She smelled pancakes and coffee, and quickly made her way to the kitchen, not before accidentally stepping on the bathroom.

“Oh, hey, you’re awake,” said an otter, still in her pajamas. Wait, she knew this otter.

“Sam? It’s you?”

“Yup, that’s me. Sam the otter. What do ya want first, coffee or pancakes?”

“I-I’m sorry, what happened yesterday?”

“All in its due time, dear, now sit,” the green-eyed river otter went to Lylla and pushed her into the near table, sitting her down and putting a coffee in front of her. “Here, for your hangover. I’ll be sure to give you water after you’re done.”

She wanted to keep pushing her for answers about last night, but that coffee smelled great, and she really wanted her headache to stop pulsating so much, at least a little bit. She gulped the coffee like it wasn’t hot at all and drank the full liter of water that Sam had placed on the table next.

“Do you like blueberry syrup or is maple fine?” she asked her, as she began filling her pancakes with blueberry syrup.

“Maple is fine, thanks,” she told her, as she nodded and put the maple syrup all throughout the plate. She gave her the plate along with a fork and knife and proceeded to sit across the table, slicing and taking a bite. 

“I know you got questions, so shoot,” she mentioned, after swallowing her first bite and smiling warmly.

Lylla also took a bite and enjoyed the taste of the pancakes. Sam was a pretty good cook. After that, she was ready for the first question. She figured she could get rid of the most embarrassing question she had right off the bat. “Did we…sleep together?”

“W-what?” Sam asked, no longer with the smile she had been wearing.

“I-I mean, not that I’d hate it, if I remembered anything that is. Honestly, I’ve never even thought of doing it with girls, but gaining that experience with another otter doesn’t sound that ba-”

“Stop! We didn’t sleep together! On both literal terms of that statement,” Sam exclaimed, blushing in embarrassment. “I let you sleep in my bed and I took the couch.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you, Sam. Sorry about that question, but I just needed to know.”

“No, it’s fine. You were drunk too, so it makes sense you would’ve been confused about where you were.”

“And boy am I glad I woke up with you. I got trampled, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You couldn’t even tell me your address, so I just took you here.”

“That’s really nice of you, truly.”

“Don’t sweat it, anyone would do what I did.”

“You’d be surprised, honestly. Anyway, what even happened? I only remember you meeting with that big scary tiger.”

“Oh, yeah…Banshee,” she said, with a surprising coldness in her face. “I don’t ever want to see her face again.”

“Oh no, did she do something to you?”

“Well, she started spouting speciest crap to me and expected me to be her friend. It was all kinds of messed up. I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could.”

“I’m…sorry about that. Truly.”

Sam sighed. “It’s okay now. The craziest thing happened right after. It was something you did,” she grinned.

“Oh, no, what crazy shit did I get into?”

“Well, you saw how uncomfortable I was and confronted her. You ended up throwing margarita at her face.”

“I did what? Oh my god, seriously?”

“I got us out of there as soon as I could. Hopefully she doesn’t know where I live, but she said she had eyes everywhere. It was super creepy.”

“Gosh. I hope they don’t come for you because of my mistake.”

“Let them come, I got a police friend who will be very happy to put her behind bars.”

“That’s good, I guess. I really gotta control my drinking, haha,” she embarrassingly chuckled.

“Either way, I gotta admit that was kinda badass. You did what I probably would never have done in a million years.”

“Don’t sell yourself so short, Sam, you still got us out of there. You were kinda the getaway driver,” she chuckled, and Sam smiled as well. “Anyways, do you mind if I stay here until my hangover clears? It would mean so much, I promise I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll do the cooking, the cleaning-”

“Whoa whoa whoa easy there, girl. You’re my friend now, I’m here for you. Stay as long as you like. It’s kinda nice to have some company from time to time, to be honest.”

“Gosh, you are incredibly nice, has anybody told you?”

“Some say I’m too nice for my own good,” she looked away, seemingly thinking about something. “I’m…inclined to agree at times.”

Lylla noticed her new state of mind, heading over to her side. “Hey now, what’s wrong?”

“I-It’s nothing, Lylla, just…ugh I was texting this fox for a week and…I thought it could go somewhere and it didn’t and sometimes it feels like it’s mostly my fault because I’m so naive all the time.”

Sam had baggage. Lylla didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to realize that. In moments like these, she always thought of many things to say to try and make her feel better, but always fell short on responses, and ended up being too quiet. Many people saw that as her being condescending, thinking she was better than them or that she had never gone through something similar. She did, but it was always hard for her to get it out. 

A slight wind knocked out the water bottle on the table, and Lylla went to reach it. While getting the bottle from the floor, Lylla saw something shocking.

“Sam! Your feet! What happened to them?”

“Oh, crap, I must’ve forgotten to change the bandages yesterday.”

What Lylla saw made her stomach drop. Her feet, which should’ve been a colorful brown, were stained red with blood and covered with bandages. The wound had started bleeding through the bandage and staining the floor. Her blood began to boil, filled with insane possibilities of what might have caused those wounds. She also became nervous at the prospect that this had happened yesterday, while she had been drunk out of her mind. “Y-yesterday, did you-”

“No, Lylla, you have it wrong,” she was quick to suppress her thoughts. “This happened almost a week ago.”

“A week ago? Was it that fox you were talking about then?”

“Well-” Sam’s phone suddenly rang before she could  answer. Her eyes widened reading the contact. “Sorry, I really gotta take this.” 

Lylla finally took the bottle and got up, sitting back into the chair. She quietly waited until Sam was done with her conversation. She still couldn’t hope but listen a little bit, only hearing Sam’s side of the conversation.

“Yeah? Oh, you have time to meet up? I have time too. Yeah, I don’t think anyone followed me. I met a friend actually. Al’s Diner? I don’t know where that is but I’ll check. Be there in 30 minutes.” The call must’ve lasted less than a minute, after which Sam began collecting the coffee mugs and the empty pancake plates. She gave them a quick wash and went back to Lylla’s side. “I’m really sorry, Lylla, but I gotta meet with someone now. You can stay here as long as you like, I got lunch in the fridge if you get hungry.”

“Wait, Sam, are you seriously just gonna leave a stranger here alone in your home?”

“I got your number, so if you steal anything, there’s no getting away from me,” she joked, to which Lylla grinned. She was sure Sam would be confident enough to chase her down. She was not a bad girl, either way.

“You sure you can’t just tell me about those cuts on your feet before you go?” she asked, concerned.

“I appreciate your worry, Lylla, but I really must go. I’ll tell you everything when I get back and maybe we can have a girls night to get to know each other better. How does that sound?”

“That does sound great. Just no drinks,” she said.

“Deal. Meet you later, alright?” Sam said, putting on a simple blouse and pants and checking the peephole of the door before she got out, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Lylla. 

After Sam left, Lylla decided to show appreciation for what Sam did, and started cleaning the house with what was available, making sure not to reorganize any objects in case she had them there for memory. She started with the dishes and then moved on to the floor, firstly cleaning out the nasty blood marks starting to dry up. She could not forget those nasty wounds, thinking that someone like Sam should not have to go through that kind of pain, not to mention she had apparently tried her chances with a fox, which hadn’t gone well by her expression. Lylla saw herself as a person who had a good read on people, which is probably why she had approached Sam back at the Sky’s Hoof. She saw Sam as someone who was enduring some deeply-rooted feelings, and sought to make her feel better.

That’s right, she became viral for that one video too, she reminded herself. Sam was truly a one of a kind otter, who seemed to be having something going on everyday. She had a cop friend too? Not something any mammal would say. 

Either way, if there’s anything Lylla knew, is that Sam was someone worth being friends with, and if someone hurts a friend of hers, she’ll hurt them back thousandfold. Heaven forbid any fox that tries to harass Sam by entering that door.

A piercing pain and a revolving stomach reminded her that she still had a hangover, and quickly ran to the restroom to egest this morning’s breakfast.

“To be honest, I kinda don’t want interspecies couples to be legalized, ya know? Think ‘bout it, dude, what if people just don’t wanna marry their kind anymore? There would be no kids anymore! And when there’s no kids, there’s no adults, and when there’s no adults, there’s no kids, and that’s a surefire way to become extinct, and no one wants to become extinct, dude. You see so many pro-inter couples nowadays, and like I get it we’re free and all, but it’s kinda scary. Gone are the days where people have limitations, you know? I’ve seen squirrels hanging out with rabbits. With rabbits! They’re like four times their size, how does it even work, ya know? And then there’s those people on TV who straight up lie about the safety of love between species but they don’t talk about them new diseases starting up because they stuck it where they didn’t need to, ya know? I just wish there were some kinda limits to it. Maybe they can stay legalized, but maybe limit the number of people who can marry into it. You get what I’m saying, pal?”

“Dude, I just wanted to buy the sunflowers,” Greg said. “Keep those thoughts to yourself or write them in a book or something, jeez.”

“Oh, sorry, mate, here ya go.” The crazy hog finally gave him the flowers he needed. Greg, who was a bit bugged by the hog’s opinions on interspecies love, gave him twenty dollars and ten cents instead of twenty dollars and sixteen cents. 

“And for the record,” Greg stated as he was giving him the money. “Love knows no bounds. As long as they’re both happy, no one should give a crap.”

“Yeah, tell ‘em,” a random bystander called out. Satisfied, Greg went back to his car and made his way to Tundratown. He was going to talk to Sam about Finnick, but first he had to do his own thing, which was to visit the owner of most of his dreams. 

He knew not to be too creepy with his advances, but he figured being friendly never hurt anyone, and he would always be polite and keep his distance, never wanting to make Himmy feel uncomfortable. Hmm, maybe he should switch the nickname too. Some people like that, but not everyone. He had gotten used to making up nicknames for everyone thanks to Uncle Nick, but it wasn’t always a way into a lady’s heart.

He reached the house. He started doing his “meeting Himmel” routine, which consisted of putting perfume on himself, as well as doing verbal exercises, repeating certain phrases (“The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy hog, the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy hog”), and for the final step, he lost his shit. His heart rate went up, his sinuses constricted, and he was sure his muscles contracted until he lost at least a pound of weight and decreased in height by at least an inch. The things she does to me. What a fox.

Figuring he should at some point, he rang the doorbell and waited for her to open up. She opened up.

He shut his eyes and panicked. “HeyHimmelIbroughtyousomeflowersIhopeyoulovethem!!!!” he screamed, and put the sunflowers on her face.

“Greg,” she said, but her voice was different, maybe because they were stuffed with sunflowers, or maybe. “I’m Skye. Himmel’s running on her treadmill.” At that point, he finally pulled the flowers back and saw Skye’s very annoyed face. “Wanna come in?”

“Uhh, y-yeah sure. But I won’t be here long. I gotta talk to Sam.” He came in, and Skye closed the door behind him.

“Sam, meaning, Finn’s lover otter?”

“ Future lover otter, there’s a difference.”

“Oh, so you’re that confident you’ll convince her to talk to him, again? I thought you said it ended pretty badly.”

“It did, but it was kinda my fault it did,” his eyes lowered. “I should’ve told her in a more…tactful way. And I also had no idea Uncle Fin was going to be honest to her. I gotta at least do something or my conscience would never let me sleep.”

“Oh, Greg, you and your conscience,” Skye said. “Want me to give her the flowers or are you gonna stuff ‘em on her face too?”

“Ah hehehe, no I will give them to her. Normally.”

“I hope so. Would hate to see her be mad at you. Also I hope you know sunflowers aren’t really gonna survive here in Tundratown, because, well, they need to be in warm environments.”

“Ah, crap,” Greg told himself, facepalming. “Whatever, it’s the meaning that matters.”

“Whatever you say, Greg. Good luck. What is this, the fourth time you’ll ask her out?” 

“I’m not asking her out,” he said, leaving Skye perplexed. He knew where the treadmill was, since he had already seen Himmel working out on it at one point.

He knocked on the door before he came in, but she was facing the wall, and with headphones on, running on the treadmill pretty quickly. He hated to interrupt her, but it was important that she received this from him.

“Uh, Himmel?” it was futile to call her. She was listening to music on her headphones, and it was so loud he could hear snippets of the lyrics from where he was standing ( “It’s okay, darling, you’re just somebody’s fool…”) Not wanting to make it more awkward than it should be, he got in front of the treadmill, making sure she didn’t get startled, and showed her the flowers. She took out her headphones, and only decreased the speed of the treadmill to a comfortable speed walk. 

“Hey Egg, how ya doing?” she asked me, smiling. Gosh, that’s such a pretty smile. 

“Um, it’s Greg actually.”

“I know,” she smiled again. “It is nickname. You don’t like?”

D-did she just say nickname? She gave me a nickname?? he thought. He was becoming lightheaded, but reminded himself not to pass out in front of her. “Uhh, y-yes! Yes, I like. I very like! Oh, sorry, I wasn’t mocking you, I-”

“Hehehehe, you’re funny. But no, Egg, I'm still not gonna date you," she said. 

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not asking you today. Just came to bring these flowers to you as thanks."

"Sunflowers? No one ever bring me sunflowers before. And thanks for what?"

"For helping out yesterday," he said, smiling with warmth. "You didn't have to, but you still did."

“It is nothing. I help my sister with anything.”

“Right. Anyway, I hope you like these.”

"They are pretty, but sunflowers die in tundra, Egg. You don't know?"

"I do, yeah. Your sister pointed it out. Doesn't matter, though, I'll just bring you more as an excuse to see you everyday."

"You are dumb,hehehe," she said, smiling again. "But you are better than grumpy fennec." Egg, being interested in Himmel like that.”

“For now, I’m more than happy being friends.”

“For now, huh?” she repeated, taking the flowers and admiring them. “See you tomorrow then…Egg,” she smiled again and put on her headphones, waving him goodbye. “Adjö,” she said in her mother tongue.

“Yeah…Adjoo to you too.”

Greg was still in cloud nine as he slowly exited the room where Himmel had begun to run again at high speeds. “She called me Egg,” he repeated in his mind, or was he saying it outloud? “She called me Egg.”

He proceeded to fantasize all the way to his car(He still said goodbye to Skye and told her that Finnick was doing okay, he was no savage) and just kept thinking about how sweet that nickname came out of her mouth. How long had she been thinking about naming him that? It didn’t matter, she did and it was glorious. Was there a chance to be with her? Greg didn’t know, but he sure as heck was falling even harder for her. Those cute ears, her blue eyes, those muscles. Those muscles. 

He concentrated on the road before he committed vehicular manslaughter and set his course to the Rainforest District, where he would hopefully convince Sam the otter to give Finnick the fennec another chance. Sam couldn’t be too far from when he saw her that time when he clogged that house’s gutter and fell on it. Not his best moment for sure.   

He reached Amazonian street, and went door-to-door asking for an otter named Sam. None had answers for him, which was kinda weird seeing that Sam was someone that would probably get along with their neighbors. That, or maybe they were surprised by him, a fox. It’s not that he can judge them too much, not many foxes visit the Rainforest district compared to all the others. Finally, he reached the door numbered 21, and rang the second doorbell of the day. Another one and it would bring bad luck, Nick always used to say.

An otter did indeed open the door, but the lack of glasses and the brown eyes had clued him in that it was not Sam. “Sorry to bother you, miss, but do you know someone named Sam living around here?”

The otter didn’t respond right away, instead looking at him from top to bottom, scanning his features. “You…” she said sinisterly, which came as a surprise to Greg.

“Me? Me what?”

“You’re the fox that cut Sam’s feet, aren’t you?”

“W-what? I’m not-”

“Prepare to die,” she said, grabbing him by the leg and pushing him inside.

“And then!” a vixen screamed violently as she spouted all deal of spit and tears into the table of the small diner in Sahara Square. “He tried to call me back, saying he was sorry! That it was just his sister helping him wash the house to surprise me. The nerve of this guy! I caught them smooching each other, plain and center. I bet you she’s still in there, mocking me and making a fool out of myself!”

“Easy there, Winnie!” I tell her, trying to get her to calm down. “I get you’re angry, but you don’t wanna spook Al’s customers, do you? Or bring any unwanted attention. The reason I do these sessions in broad daylight and around a lot of people is for your safety and your safety only.”

This successfully got her to calm down, grabbing a brown napkin from one of those diner napkin holders or whatever they were called. The kinds that looked like toasters. Anyway, she blew her nose and wiped her tears, swallowing her saliva and breathing slowly. “What can I do, Officer Wilde?”

“Not an officer right now, Winnie,” I corrected her for the third time today. “First thing you can do is dump his ass, unless you’re already planning to?” For all that is holy, please say yes. 

“I’m done with that moron. He can keep his ‘sister’ for all I care.”

I try not to make her notice my relieved sigh. “That’s great. The next thing you can do is kick both of them out of your house, since you’re more than legally liable to do so.”

“R-really?”

“Yep. You tell me you’re the one paying the rent monthly, right? He doesn’t help at all?”

“No.”

“Then all he’s doing is leeching off your hard work. Same goes for Miss Incest there. Sorry to say this, but who knows how many times she’s come over while you were working?”

“Oh gosh, I didn’t even think about that! So…disgusting!”

“I recommend you burn those sheets after this is over. Anyways, since you’re the only one paying rent, and also the only person currently on the lease, I can call an officer to come pick those two up and take them to the good ol’ jail, where I will also be sure to start the process of a restraining order.”

“Wait, you can pick them up right now?” she asked me incredulously. 

“Yes indeed. I don’t play with forced entry, and that’s what those two are doing right now. They’re gonna get their just desserts.”

I could see the light of the vixen suddenly returning. “You’re a saint, Officer Wilde!” She got up and hugged me, and I returned it out of kindness. Al, the anteater owner of this establishment, gave me a look that I did not appreciate. 

"Easy there, Winnie!" I told her, as she started pressing on my windpipe too hard. I had another appointment soon after she was done, so I needed to be alive by then. She let go, gave me another fond smile, and started walking out.

"You have my number!" She exclaimed, the jingle of the bells at the door signaling her exit. She bumped on something on the way out and went off into the distance. Where, you ask? Not the slightest idea. But I do know what she bumped with, or rather who she bumped with. 

"Sam! Just in time for our ten-thirty appointment, woah. Couldn't wait to see me, huh?"

"Could you be more discreet, Nick? Also, I thought it was one of  your special agents that was meeting me," said the otter, sitting down awkwardly at the other side of the table.

"Sorry, it’s good ol’ Nick today. My special agent couldn’t make it. Sam, this is my trusted headquarters, there's no place more safe than here."

"I mean, I believe you, but people are still staring. I'm still the same otter from the video last week."

"And what do you know, I'm still the same fox from the video last week," I say, with my usual prideful mug. I can tell she's still unnerved, so I tone it down for a bit. Just for a bit. "Look, it's fine, alright? Al here might be a knucklehead but he's a sweetheart. He doesn't care about dumb rumors."

"Call me a knucklehead again and I'll kick you out of your 'trusted headquarters', Piberius." Yuck. All I can think is yuck in my mind. Al had a terrible habit of calling me by my middle name, and while I really didn't hate it that much, I never liked how it came out of his mouth. 

"Did you not hear me also saying you were a sweetheart, or are those ant-infested ears corroding already?"

"Nick! Please, focus?" I look back to her, and no smile is present in her features. Clearly the banter was not doing anything to fix her mood.

"...bad date?" I dare to ask.

"The worst," she dared to respond. 

"May I ask why? As a member of the fox species, my deepest apologies."

"Oh no, you don't have to do that. He was sweet, just…dishonestly sweet, if that makes sense."

"Mmm. Well then, there are more foxes in the sea, Sam. Actually, not as many as there are fish, but never stop looking for the right mammal. After all, it took me thirty-three years," I said, smirking, which brought back her smile. 

"Enough about that date. How about we do what we came here to do?" 

"Now you're speaking my language," I said, skillfully pulling out a notebook and pen, filling out all kinds of information about Sam's devilish ex. 

"So…I thought you were a cop. Why do you have time to meet with me like this?" Sam asked.

I still kept my eyes on the paper, but responded nonetheless, "You may take the fox out of the streets, but never the streets out of the fox, Sammers. On my days off from the beat, I do all kinds of gigs. All legal, obviously, and most of them involve helping people, specifically people like me, who were down on their luck and discriminated against for their species. I also deal with making sure restriction orders are actually pulled through and not paid off, which is what concerns you."

"Huh, so that vixen that almost squashed my tail was a client of yours?"

"Oh yeah. I can't tell you what it was, obviously, strictly confidential."

"Judy must be so proud of you."

That did get me to lift my eyes from the page, staring at Sam with a smile. "That she does. She inspires me to be like her every single day," I say, with the most serious face I've ever made. “Even though she just tells me to be me,” I scoff, turning back to the paper. "A-anyway, I already pulled up some info on him from the ZPD system, and it seems like Buddy boy has been involved in serious stuff."

"Max? Really?"

“Oh yeah. Grand theft auto,” It took all of me not to say Grand Theft Otto right there. “Breaking and entering, DUI, gang affiliation. The works.”

“That’s insane. I was living with a criminal for an entire year,” she said perplexed.

“And his full name is Max M. Otto, correct?”

“He never mentioned a middle name, but that’s definitely his last name. Is it really that important?”

“It is if it’s also your last name,” I tell her straight.

Sam blinked three times. “Excuse me?”

“I did some digging and found Mr. Otto had a Mrs. Otto registered in his files. Guess who’s face came up?”

Her eyes widened. “What? He…did that?” she looked genuinely disgusted and taken aback. She couldn’t possibly be lying. She didn’t know this had been a thing.

“Pardon if it seemed like I was accusing you of something, Sam, but I also tried looking up your maiden name in other sources and it didn’t come up anywhere. Not even Snoutbook! You can understand my surprise.”

“Well…that’s because I… lied about my last name.”

Never in a thousand years would I have thought that someone as sweet as Sam would lie, nevermind lie to me! The master of liars! Man, what’s up with me and small mammal women hustling me? I’m really out of my element. “Why exactly did you lie?” I ask her.

“Because my last name is moronic and embarrassing?” 

Really? That’s her reason? “Sam, with all due respect, you struck me as a person who wouldn’t care what people thought of her…”

“I don’t, usually…but for this one…I am very much not comfortable with revealing to anyone.”

“Well…for the sake of evidence, could I please know your last name? This is for your safety, Sam,” I tell her, with utmost seriousness.

She sighs. “Fine, if it’s really that important. It’s…”

When she told me her true name, it took a moment before I could fully react. I didn’t want to be mean, but it was simply very…ridiculous. Sam was not lying. However, there were a lot of shocking last names in the world, and Sam’s was definitely not the weirdest one he’d heard in his life. “I have another question. Just out of pure curiosity. If you hate your last name so much, couldn’t you just happily change it to something else?” I didn’t want to keep incriminating her, but I have to look at all of the facts. I can’t let my thoughts of her reflect on my investigation. That leads to sloppiness, and sloppiness leads to the mystery not being solved. 

“Of course I wouldn’t change it. Why would I change the name my parents gave me?” she said, a sad expression forming. “They were…they were everything to me.”

Aw, crap, Wilde. Now you went and made her think of sad things. You’re being very lousy and inconsiderate. Judy would smack you in the head if she was here. Actually, I can already kinda feel it. Get out of my consciousness, Judy!

"Okay, Sam. Sorry about that, truly. Let's review the facts we have, shall we?" She nodded weakly. "Okay, so Max must be rich, or at least have a lot of money to be able to not only forge a marriage certificate but to pay up a judge. Considering he's been in gangs, he's probably involved in some kind of mob."

"...mob?" She asked me, and sighed. "This could not be any worse."

"Don't worry, alright? Me and Judy? We're not going to stop until we find out what his business is with you. If we get good evidence that he’s dealing with mobsters, we’re gonna be able to get a warrant for his arrest, and a very good reason for a federal judge to happily issue a restriction order for you. As for your last name, I’ll see with a judge if he can do anything to fix it for you. Sounds like a plan?”

“That does sound really good, yeah. Anything to get away from that scumbag.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, keep your paws on that phone if anything out of the ordinary happens. I’ll be there as soon as the phone rings. If there’s nothing else you’d like to discuss-”

“Actually, there is,” she told me suddenly. “It happened yesterday, at the Sky’s Hoof.”

“The Sky’s Hoof?” I ask her. “How in the world were you there? That’s a place for the megarich to flaunt all their money.”

“Yeah, I saw that. I actually got invited.”

“By who?”

She told me all about the events from last night, making sure to write down every single detail, from the fact that Ms. Floor herself had invited Sam to spend some time at the top of the Sky’s Hoof, but that wasn’t the kicker of the story. The party’s organizer, Banshee, had shared a few drinks and food with Sam, all while talking a lot of crap about me. And then a friend she made gets drunk and drops margarita on her eyes? Brutal! I feel for Sam, but I can’t help but think about how gripping her life is. It’s straight out of some soap opera.

“You don’t really need to help with that, I just thought you should know someone as powerful as her kinda hates you.”

“A lot of people hate me, Sam. I let that not get to me.”

“Yeah, but she’s rich and powerful. She could try to do something.”

“And to that, you know what I say, Sam? Let her try. Let’s see how well she would fare against a sly fox and an angry bunny.”

“Hehe, I’m glad you’re that confident, Nick. Anyway, I gotta go now. I still have that friend back at my apartment, and I don’t wanna keep them waiting too long.”

“By all means, Sam, you can go,” I got up to say goodbye. Remember, though, if anything so much as moves funny, make sure to ca-”

I wasn’t expecting the small brown-furred girl to go up and hug me so suddenly, but I dared not to finish it. She needed comfort; she did go through a lot in the span of a week. “I know I shouldn’t say it so much,” Sam said, her eyes closed. “But I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Nick. I…this week hasn’t been the best and-”

“There, there,” I said to her, returning the hug. “You don’t have to thank us. We will always help a mammal in need, no matter what. It’s kinda why Judy and I are so awesome.”

She laughed, and then softly let go. “This week will be better. I just know it in my gut.”

“I know it will, Sam. Now, be safe out there, alright?”

“Always,” she gave me a small smile, and then she turned around to leave, the bell of the entrance ringing as she opened it. It was a brief conversation, but for her safety, she needed to get home quickly. I began to gather my things and said goodbye to Al, making my way to my car and making sure I wasn’t being followed. When all seemed okay, I touched the earpiece on my left ear. “You heard all that, Carrots?”

Okay, just calm down, Sam. Everything will be better this week, was her constant thought process on her way back home. Her meeting with Nick had calmed her nerves a little, but it didn’t mean she was out of the waters yet. She hadn’t seen Max yet, which was a relief, but it just felt like the calm before the storm. Max wouldn’t give up so easily, but she didn’t know what he could be planning.

Why did he even care about her after all that time? What was his motive? To torment her more? To make her feel lesser than him, like he had already done so spectacularly? Can a person be that cartoonishly evil? She couldn’t even fathom why someone would harbor such ill-mannered feelings toward her. She will never stop asking herself why the world always seemed to be against her.

Pushing those negative thoughts away, Sam arrived at her house, not destroyed by the mob yet, seemingly as normal as she had left it. She hoped Lylla hadn’t gone anywhere. They hadn’t exchanged phone numbers yet and she didn’t think the otter was sober enough to go home, let alone traverse the Rainforest, which was filled with bridges with very far drops. 

Getting out of her scooter and walking up to her home, she heard a commotion. “No, don’t do it, please!” she heard a panicked…male voice? It was inside her house. Sam began to panic, wondering if someone had broken into her home while Lylla was there. That certainly was a terrible development. “No, anything but there!” Strangely, the voice was incredibly familiar, like she had just heard it yesterday. 

Dropping her scooter right at the entrance, she opened the door expecting the absolute worst. “Lylla, be care-,” she tried to say, but the scenery was not what she expected. “-ful?” There was Lylla, not a scratch on her, thank all the divine gods… and then there was Greg.

“Darn, why would you do that? I had a perfect estate right there! I could’ve controlled the oil,” he said to the otter. They were playing a board game on the floor. 

“Not my fault you don’t protect your businesses. They were wide open, ripe for the taking.”

They hadn’t even noticed her return, too engrossed in the game. A slight twitch from Greg’s eye finally made him notice her. “Sam! You’re here!” he screamed, waving at her.

“Hey, Sam, how was the meeting you didn’t wanna go into detail about?” asked Lylla.

“I-it was fine, more importantly, what the hell is he doing here?” she asked. Greg became visibly uncomfortable.

“W-well, I messed up, Sam. I thought he was that fox you said broke your heart, and I tried to fight him. Good thing he’s a good guy and explained what was going on. Sorry again, Greg.”

“No problem. I understand how a misunderstanding could’ve been made. It was nice we talked about it like adults.”

“Yeah, that was very good of us.”

“Hey, don’t ignore me, Greg,” Sam said furiously. “I thought I made it very clear to you that I don’t ever wanna see you or him again.”

“I know, and I understand how it was very messed up that he did that…but he really does feel bad about it.”
“I don’t care,” she said, furrowing her brow and crossing her arms. “He should’ve thought about it before he invited me to cook for him.”

“That’s part of the problem. I shouldn’t have told you about what he did.”

“You what? So you would’ve allowed me to live out his lie?” she got more furious and walked up to him, ready to vent all of her frustrations on the much bigger mammal. But Lylla stopped her by gently grabbing her arm.

“Sam…just listen to him,” she said candidly, surprising her. Sam didn’t know the otter that well, yet, but she thought Lylla of all people would understand where she came from. Either way, she did as she said, and quietly waited for Greg to speak. She was also realizing that being mad at Greg wasn’t very logical. After all, it was him that actually told her, so at least he must care a little bit about her feelings.

“Can I sit down, at least?” Sam asked, to which Greg nodded. She sat on the sofa of the living room, and Greg took a seat on the floor at the opposite side of the coffee table.

“Thank you, Lylla,” he told her, then addressing Sam. “Look. I’ve done some hustling gigs too, alright? It’s the only way I’ve been able to live. Sometimes no one is harmed but other times we can’t help but swindle nice people.”

“So when I found you in the gutter-”

He sighed, “Yes. I clogged it myself. Guess I got payback for that right away, huh?”

“Yeah, you did. Continue.”

“Remember when I told you Nick also used to hustle with us?” Sam nodded. “Well, that’s how he met Miss Hopps too. They hated each other’s guts for a while until they didn’t, and solved a plot that saved the world.”

“And you think it’ll happen the exact same way with us? I don’t buy it.”

“Sam, he isn’t a bad guy, he-”

“You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that phrase, Greg. ‘Oh, he isn’t bad, Sam, he’s just a little protective, he does love you.’ ‘Sam, you’re exaggerating, he’s only doing this because he loves you.’ Well, I’m done being a naive little otter who gets taken advantage of every step of the way. For once, I’m gonna be taking control of my life, and no one is going to tell me any differently. Now, I’m sorry, but tell Finnick that there’s plenty more foxes in the sea.”

“He wanted to say sorry!” he blurted out, startling Sam.

“Huh?”

“That exact same day, when I told you all about him, he was about to be honest with you. He was planning to tell you everything, and I mean everything! From Nick leaving him all the way to hustling you and feeling bad about it. He’s truly, truly sorry, Sam.”

“Then why isn’t he here? If he’s so goddamn sorry, why didn’t he come here to say it himself.”

Greg scoffed. “Because he’s a coward. The second he feels like he’s getting too close with someone, he’ll try to sabotage it. But his biggest mistake was meeting me, because I don’t give up no matter what.”

Sam didn’t know when Lylla had gotten on her side, but the otter started to whisper something to her. “Man, that fox is relentless. It’s kinda attractive,” she said, smiling mischievously. 

“Look, I don’t want to try and tug your heartstrings because I know it’s toxic to do that, but you still deserve to know, since you guys became so close over text: Finnick is not okay. I mean, he wasn’t exactly the most stable individual before, but now it’s worse. Ever since Uncle Nick left to pursue his own things, he’s been different.”

“Different, how?” Sam asked. She hated that she was kind of curious about this.

“He’s…sadder. Like he really doesn’t want to be a hustler anymore. And he’s good at hustling, he’s done it his whole life. It just seems like without Nick there isn’t much of a point to it.”

“So what, he’s gonna recruit me to become his next hustling partner? Pass.”

“Not at all, Sam. It seemed like he really needed someone to talk to that wasn’t me. He even refused to do hustles so that he could keep talking to you! That’s a big deal. He got a very expensive and exotic salmon so that you could eat something different than just your average salmon. He really cared about what you thought.”

“Even if all you said it’s true, I’ve trusted too many people, and they’ve all let me down. What’s the difference this time?”

“He’s lonely, Sam,” Greg said, looking down on the floor. “I wish you could see him when we’re in the van. All he does when he’s not hustling is just lie on his bed, scrolling through his phone doing nothing, just going about the day like nothing matters. But when he started texting you? It’s like the old him had reanimated. He started going out more, buying more groceries. I even saw him smiling, and that’s like, something he never does! He cares about you, Sam, and I know, I know, with all my heart, that he would never go so far as to throw a large glass pitcher of water at you. He was actually really mad when he discovered that.”

Sam remained speechless, quietly listening to his speech. His mannerisms portrayed pure honesty. He wasn’t hustling her, he wasn’t trying to make fun of her by lifting up her spirits about this seemingly failed date. He was a concerned nephew wanting the best for his uncle, and Sam was part of the help he needed, as unbelievable as that sounded. While she was skeptical about Finnick, Greg’s cause seemed innocent.

“I’m just asking for a one and only chance. Just to make me feel better about what I did to him. He may be a lot, but he’s still my family. The person that raised me to be who I am. I love him, Sam. I really do, and I’ll endure any punishment if it means I can get him to heal.”

To heal. It was something Sam didn’t know she needed as well. She hadn’t thought about how much Max’s return had affected her, and how much comfort her conversations with Finnick brought her, no matter if they were completely truthful or not. Sam, too, like Finnick, was lonely, and had a limited source of people that could help her heal. Therapists were an option, but they weren’t always the solution, not to mention a good one cost more than what Sam could afford. Finnick made her cry, yes, but it was nothing to the pain she felt when Max left her, or when he came back just to abuse her some more. Finnick targeted someone he didn’t know, but Max knew her very well, and didn’t care about hurting her.

“Fine,” she made her choice. She could say no. She knew she could say no. But Sam was nothing if not a raging optimist, just like her mother before her. “I will meet with him ONCE. If he messes up again, consider my relationship with him, friendship or otherwise, dead. Am I clear?”

“Y-yeah. Clear! Clear as water! Sam, you’re not gonna regret this!” He screamed, seemingly tearing up? “You’re so nice.”

“Now hold on a second, this isn’t going to be like last time. I’m gonna come prepared.”

“Y-yeah. *Sniff* For sure it won’t. I’ll mold him into shape in no time!”

“But it means I have a set of rules for him to follow,” she said, putting her own smug smile that would challenge Nick’s. “Tell me, Greg, does Finnick own any costumes?” The wheels began turning on her otter brain. She was actually excited to meet with Finnick again. Greg only looked at her with a nervous fear.

And Lylla? Well, she was thinking of many ways to flirt with the handsome arctic fox in front of her.

Chapter Text

10 Years Ago

The Snatcher was on the prowl. On the cold night of Tundratown, he observed his prey, cold paws hitting cold ground with extreme dexterity and stealth. There was no way they would see him come. They were definitely loaded mammals. He could smell their stacked wallets from there, the coins jangling in their pockets making protuberances in their pants. Maybe they had some food in their van, too. Anything he could eat would be great about now. He was so hungry he could eat a horse. Made of candy, though. 

The Snatcher had no recollection of when he had last eaten a decent meal, being kept busy from the amount of snatching he did. He stole money, but he couldn’t use it all on food. He was young, but he wasn’t an idiot. He had to save as much money as he could to buy a house. The biggest in all of the district. Maybe he could buy even bigger things, like a rocket, or even better, a bigger rocket. But he was thinking too far ahead. For now, he had to focus on swiping those people’s money. The smaller mammal with big ears was the easiest target. Without much thought to it (he had done this a gazillion times by now) he went in for the kill (the wallet). He definitely grabbed something and quickly moved away to a safe place away from the two. Once he definitely knew that they hadn’t followed him, the Snatcher began to observe what he had hauled for himself. It was a wallet, that much was certain. But the contents were not at all what he expected. Inside there was no money, no credit cards, not even identification cards he could sell on the Inbetween. Instead, there was a small slip of paper taped to the inside. It read ‘Nice Try, kid’

I’ve been got, the Snatcher thought, throwing the wallet away and running away before they could get it back. It was too late, however.

A silhouette stood at the end of the alley he had entered, and another, smaller one to the other side. The Snatcher had been cornered. “You got some good tricks, kit,” the voice belonging to the bigger mammal said. “But it won’t work on us.”

Darn it, the Snatcher thought. There goes his chance of food for the night.

Present Day

“OPEN THE F*CKING DOOR NOW, RAVI,” screamed a crazy fox wanting to get inside the doors of the Inbetween. He was pissed. 

Ravi, the panther who had been living inside of the Inbetween for about twenty years, didn’t know what to think. On one hand, he knew this fox very well, so it’s not like he could get away from opening the door for him. On the other hand, he was actually a little bit scared, because he had never seen the fox angry at all. It was a fallacy, a paradox, something that shouldn’t happen, ever, in the history of never. But it was happening, and he had to confront it. Slowly, he looked around through the peephole to make sure there weren’t any other people he had called to beat him up, and when he saw that there wasn’t (It was just the same fox, with a look that made his bones tremble), he slowly opened the door to let him in. Despite Ravi being at least two inches taller, he still felt like the tinier mammal there.

“Greeeeeeg, what a surprise to see you here.”

“Shut it, you lousy mammal!” he entered, shutting the door with all his might. “Why did you say that to my uncle?!” He asked.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, Greg.”

“Stop acting like an idiot and answer me!” the fox pointed a finger, with its claw drawn directly into his chest. There was no way out of this one. Ravi had to tell the truth.

“Jeez, man. I was only joking with him. Did he take it that seriously?”

“Joking? Really? You told him that everyone in his life would leave him! Do you realize how messed up that is? That’s really freaking evil, man! Even for you.”

The finger stayed pointed at his chest. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I guess I had a bad day and was trying to take it out on him. Won’t happen again, I swear.”

“It better not, because you know as well as anyone that this place is another slip up away from being discovered. You know about the close calls you’ve had recently. A simple whistle can make it fall down instantly, and we don’t want that, right?”

Ravi gulped audibly. Greg making threats? It was an alternate reality at that point. "No, not at all,” he tried to remain as calm as possible. “So what do you want from me, man?”

“We…are going to…” Ravi felt his arms falling out, unable to think properly. Greg grabbed him by the shirt and looked at him menacingly. Whatever it was, he was going to ask for something terrible, horrifying. He was gonna make him walk through a piranha river, try to cheat at a poker game, embezzle funds? He really couldn’t be certain. He shut his eyes in anticipation. “..get another salmon for my uncle for free!” Greg said, smiling.

Huh?, Ravi thought.

A few hours earlier

“What? Five in the afternoon already?” Finnick told himself, after catching up on the entire Fox For Your Troubles series so far. He had gotten hooked. Not only were the episodes filled with incredibly mysterious plots that were wittily solved by the titular fox character, but it also included an incredibly well-made relationship between the two main characters. It wasn’t built on a Will they, won’t they scenario where the audience is left to theorize whether they will get together, but rather a When will they? situation. It’s clear that the two characters love each other, but they are both so clumsy around love that they tend to be bad at expressing such feelings. Finnick couldn’t help but extremely relate to both characters when it came to that, so naturally, he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

The van door received a knock, and the arctic fox made his entrance. He was empty-pawed, but his expression was that of joy. Oh, no , Finnick thought.

“Good news! Sam is willing to meet up with you again?”

Finnick nodded, putting the plate of bug burgers and fries back on the coffee table, and promptly putting his paws on the sides of his head. “What?!”

“You really should stop underestimating me, Uncle. You know I do what I set myself to do.”

“Ugh, I should’ve known this would happen. H-How was she?”

“She seemed fine. She had an otter friend there who she had told about her foot injuries, and she thought I was the one who had done it. Hehe, it was pretty funny, she almost killed me.”

“And that’s funny, how?” Finnick deadpanned.

“Just the ridiculousness of it all. Anyway, she wants to meet up tomorrow at 12 PM at the Rainforest Riviera.”

“Her restaurant?”

“Yup. She also has a long list of, um, requirements for you.”

“What kind of requirements?” Finnick asked worryingly.

Greg gulped. “You know what? Why don’t we buy her another salmon and then worry about the checklist, hmm? Last one was burned, after all.”

“I’m not going back to the Inbetween, if that’s where you’re thinking of getting the salmon,” Finnick said.

“I mean, I know the cold bothers you, Uncle, but I didn’t think it would bother you that much. You’ve been to Tundratown a ton, including when you-”

“It’s not about the cold, Greg. Stupid Ravi got on my case about Sam, insulting me to my face. I don’t wanna see his stupid panther mug anymore.”

“...he did? What did he say?” Greg’s sight decreased as he furrowed his brows.

“I don’t really wanna repeat it…” the fennec said, turning his back to Greg.

Greg put an arm on his shoulder. “Uncle, with or without you, I’m going to get you another salmon, so you better tell me what that good-for-nothing told you.” 

Finnick was surprised by the sudden aggressiveness coming from his nice arctic nephew. He couldn’t deny it felt good that Greg was offended like that for someone like him. He couldn’t say it out loud, but it warmed his heart to an impossible degree. Finnick told him everything, from the moment he came in to the moment he got out. After spilling the beans, Greg said nothing, and just left the van as quickly as he arrived, not knowing what he was going to do.

Greg didn’t notice, but a slip of paper folded in half had fallen from his pocket and fell softly on one of Finnick’s hind paws. Without much thought to it, he grabbed the piece of paper, and started reading the contents of it, which were slightly concerning to the fox. Just slightly.

“SHE WANTS ME TO WHAT?”

The Next Day, 9AM

“I don’t know, you think this is too tacky?” Sam asked Lylla, the otter she had met at the Sky’s Hoof only two days ago. She was trying on dresses from her wardrobe in preparation for her ‘date’. She was cautious about calling it that, but there really was not another way to put it. They were going out to eat at a restaurant and were going to have to talk about everything that transpired. Since he was allegedly going to be honest, she figured she should also be honest about her own escapades, at least to have someone else to talk to about it. 

She was trying out a red blouse combined with a dark blue skirt.

“Mmm, might be too sexy for a first date. You need to get a more subtle outfit. Still striking, obviously, but less loud, if you know what I mean.”

“So, a bit more formal?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s not like you want to impress him on this date, right? He’s still on trial, from the way you talked about it yesterday.”

“Yeah, true, but I also can’t just go in dressed as whatever. It has to give some kind of message. It has to say I’m still kinda angry and want him to be very sorry about what he did but I also wanna move on and try to be friends. Ya know?”

“You’re really counting on your clothes to say all of that?” Lylla asked, baffled.

“I wanna give that impression, yes.”

“Whoo, that’s a tricky message, but we’ll figure it out.”

The sound of the doorbell to Sam’s apartment interrupted the girls’ thoughts. Both became alarmed and made no sound for a couple of seconds. “Who could that be?” asked Sam.

“Maybe it’s Greg?” Lylla asked excitedly. She really had become quite smitten with the fox.

“What would he be doing here so early?”

“Maybe to see me? I knew I made an impression!” Lylla ran to the door like a bat out of hell. Can she still say that? Anyway, she ran as well to stop her from doing something reckless.

“Wait, we don’t know who it might actually be!” Sam whispered. “Let me just see who it is through the peephole.”

Sam did just that, slowly walking towards the door and closing one eye as she got close to the hole that let her see to the outside. Her eyes widened when she saw the figure, and immediately opened the door.

“Judy! You’re here!” The otter rushed toward the bunny and gave her a hug. Her forehead brushed against Judy’s neck fur as she adjusted herself to amplify the hug. Judy returned it with the same warmth. 

“It’s great to see you, Sam,” Judy said.

When she finally released Judy from her lutrine clutches, Sam saw that she wasn’t wearing a police uniform. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Lylla said from behind the two. “Did I miss a chapter or something? You’re f-f-friends with Judy freaking Hopps?!”

“The same one, reporting for duty,” Judy said, making a military salute. “You must be…” Judy tried saying, but the otter was already in front of her, forcefully grabbing her paw for a shake. 

“Lillardinna, but my friends call me Lylla,” she said. “Please call me Lylla,” she pleaded with a low voice as her paws still rapidly shook the bunny’s. Judy laughed awkwardly and finally forced the pawshake to stop.

“Wait, Lylla, I thought I told you I was friends with them,” Sam said.

“No, you said you were friends with a cop, not that you were friends with THE cop.” Sam was still 

“Oh, please, Lylla, you praise me too much. May I come in?” Judy asked.

“Yes, of course. My house is yours!” Sam said, leading her to the living room and sitting her down on the sofa while Sam sat on one of the high stools close to the kitchen counter. Lylla sat close to her on the sofa, still smiling at the fact she’d just met the cop who saved the world. “It’s so good to see you, Judy,” Sam told her. “You don’t know half of the crazy things that have been happening to me.”

"Well, I know some of the stuff, from what Nick and I have seen on the web and what you've told us already."

"Gotta say, though, the worst thing was learning about Finnick hustling me, but Greg told me he wanted to apologize, so I should at least hear him out. Definitely beats Max, ugh.”

“Oh yes. Him,” Judy’s words came out like poison. Sam knew Judy was righteous enough to detest someone like Max, and she trusted her to be able to do something about it. Lylla was confused by the name. Sam had yet to tell her about the true culprit of her foot cuts. “But let’s not talk about him right now. You have a date to prepare for. Nick told me to give you some pointers about how you should handle Finnick.”

“Handle him?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah. He told me to tell you to avoid anything spicy whenever you cook for him, he hates spice apparently. Also to make sure never to ask for his real name, and thirdly, to never mention his mom.”

“Wow, he’s very high maintenance,” Lylla said. 

“That’s nothing, actually,” Judy mentioned. “You should see the long list of dos and don'ts that Nick has. I’m slowly working on shortening the list of don'ts,” she said with a mischievous smile. Lylla paid attention to that and smiled. 

“But…he’s not cautioning me about possibly being his friend?”

“Nope. Nick knows Finnick isn’t a bad mammal, per se. He just isn’t very trustful of people due to his current line of work.”

“He’s still not getting out of what he did to me scot free,” Sam challenged.

“I’m not saying that at all, Sam. I agree with you that he deserves some kind of punishment, and however you want to handle that, I trust you to do it. Just make sure to keep it within the realms of legality.”

“Don’t worry, Judy. I won’t do anything too severe to him,” Sam grinned.

“Taking your word for it. Now, I apologize, but I think I overheard you two saying that you needed a different outfit for your date?”

“Yes, actually,” Lylla confirmed. “Her clothes are gorgeous, but they don’t really fit this date, apparently.”

“Well, my day today is completely free, so we three are going shopping!”

“What?!” Lylla screamed. “Shopping with Officer Hopps? It’s an honor!”

“Eheheh,” Judy laughed awkwardly again. “Anyway, I’ll let you change to something more presentable for the mall, Sam. Meet you outside?” She got up from the sofa and started opening the door.

“Sure thing. It was great seeing you again, Judy,” Sam said. It was really amazing that she was able to greet the bunny again after more than a year. She hoped to keep seeing her more regularly. She’ll definitely ask for her phone number this time around.

“Likewise, Sam,” Judy said, and then left to wait for her outside.

With a smile on her face, Sam started heading to her closet to find casual mall clothes she could wear.

“Hehe,” Lylla said, heading in Sam’s direction too. Her giggly face amused Sam a little.

“What are you laughing about?” she asked the otter as she began putting on flannel shorts and a green t-shirt.

She pointed at the front door with her right thumb. “She’s boinking Officer Wilde, isn’t she?”

“Lylla!” Sam screamed at the scandalously inappropriate comment.

“This is so stupid,” Finnick said, being driven by Greg to the Rainforest Riviera, ready for the date.

“This is very much not stupid,” Greg replied, driving oh so gleefully

“This is stupider than stupid, and I've done stupid shit in my life.”

“Come on, Finnick,” said Skye, on the back of the van. “At least you should feel a bit better that you're confronting your problems instead of avoiding them like usual.”

“You're not here, Skye. As far as I'm concerned, this is just me and Greg on a daily scroll through the city.”

Skye looked at the partner on her right with an aloof expression, wanting to aggravate the small fox a little more. “Right, and Himmel sniffing Greg's sunflowers like a 1980s vacuum is a thing that is totally not happening right now.”

Himmel, embarrassed that her sister had called her out like that, took the flowers away from her snout and sniffed them from a safe distance. “I was not vacuum,” she grumbled silently to herself.

“It's completely unbelievable so it might as well not be true,” Finnick stated.

“Hey!” Greg exclaimed, offended. 

“That's not all of it, Finn. You should see how she calls him now.”

“Kee, stop!” said Himmel.

Finnick wanted nothing more than to forget what was about to happen, so engaging in other matters helped relieve some of his nerves. “Something dumb like Greggie or Regg?”

“Or something defined and sophisticated,” added Skye, also having fun with the two. “Like Gregorius Maximus, or Greggory the White.”

“Sister, I will stuff sunflower seeds in your fur and throw water at them if you don't stop talking about me or Eg-'' she instinctively hiccuped and put a paw on her snout to stop herself from talking any longer. 

Finnick tried not to laugh as he looked at Greg's embarrassed face, still trying to look at the upcoming traffic of the Rainforest. Not long after, he put up a smile of his own.

“At least I'm not the one having dinner with an otter you hustled,” that sentence was damaging enough. He could see Finnick's downtrodden face as his ego descended. But Greg could play dirty, and he wasn't going to sleep tonight if he didn't go for the killing blow. “...while wearing a baby Elephant suit.”

“Boom! That was a burn straight out of hell!” Skye said. “You got him good, Greg. Got him real good.”

“What is this, a diss sesh?” Finnick said, in an angry-proud-embarassed combo. Greg's comment was messed up, but it was the truth. He was in an elephant suit, and he was about to meet the otter that had been on his mind since the moment he'd hustled her, and the restaurant they were meeting in was in peak hour, which meant a multitude of mammals would see him try to engage in casual conversation while wearing an elephant suit. Her list also mentioned bringing friends, which is why Skye and Himmel were currently in the back of his van, enjoying the luxury of seeing him in a very vulnerable state in high definition 4K. Definitely a humiliation attempt courtesy of Sam. Did he get really angry and try to talk himself out of doing it? Yes. Did he blame Sam for wanting to do it? No. She had every right to do this and more, and no matter the terms, he still would've done it in a heartbeat. He genuinely wanted to see her again. Did he also mention he was in an elephant suit? “Get off your high ostriches and just let me try to have some fun before shit hits the fan.”

“Or before the elephant hits the restaurant,” Himmel said this time, evoking a literal spit take on her vixen sister. Finnick sighed. This was gonna be a long, humiliating day.

“It wasn't that funny, Skye,” Finnick said grumpily.

“Comedy is subjective,” Skye said, still catching her breath from her hearty laughs. “I guess mine involves seeing angry fennecs having a bad day.”

“Well you should move in with me, cuz that's pretty much every day of my life.”

“Okay, no more riffing, you guys. We're here,” Greg said, parking to the left of the restaurant.

Finnick thought he wouldn't see that black wooden door for a long time. It was common knowledge that after a hustle, being anywhere around the area was a big no no, so it was good to wait at least a few months to let the heat die down. Sam had gotten Finnick to come back within two weeks. Her power was impressive, and Finnick started thinking that he would never underestimate an otter ever again.

“Do we have to do this?” Asked Finnick, feeling his lungs constricted by the breath he was holding. 

“Yeah, I’d say we do. Let’s not keep her waiting, Uncle.” Greg put the car in park and placed his right paw on Finnick’s left to show support. Despite the jokes and the laughs, he let the fennec know that he still had his back, and that he wouldn’t be alone through the whole ordeal.

Finnick’s breath released, knowing it had to be this way. There was no hustling his way out of this one. If he wanted to be truly honest, this was his first step. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

He unlocked the door, opened it, closed it, and made decisive steps toward the front of the restaurant. Looking to his right, he noticed Sam’s famous scooter, as well as many more patrons starting to get through the door. Some had already noticed the weirdly dressed fox and started to either laugh or speak amongst each other out of confusion. He looked back, and the three arctic foxes were right by him, following his every move. Finally, he was at the door.

“Um, should I knock or…” Greg told Himmel. Finnick was taking his sweet time trying to open the door. It’s not that he couldn’t reach it. For that he had no excuse. It being an accessible door for mammals of every kind and size, there was a special smaller door that fit his size perfectly.

“Excuse me, sir, we want to get in,” said a male kudu right behind the foxes. “We ain’t got all day here.”

“Leave them alone, Bucky, it’s clear they can’t reach the door hold,” said a male oryx. The two mammals knew each other somehow.

“You daft or something? They got a special little door, every animal has one.”

“Oh yeah? I couldn’t see it from here, you know I got bad eyesight.”

“Then why aren’t you wearing the glasses the doctor prescribed.”

“They don’t go well with this outfit.”

“This isn’t about style, it’s about you being able to see!”

“Oh shut up.”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“Oh for the love of Saint Reynard, both of you shut up!” Finnick said, having had enough of the obnoxious couple.

“Boy, the baby elephant’s got a temper,” the kudu said, having retreated a couple of steps back.

“I blame it on the parents, honestly,” the oryx said.

Finnick sighed, adjusting the elephant hood and the trunk above his snout, just outright opening the door without a care in the world. His three companions also walked in, seeing the inside of the establishment for the first time. The Rainforest Riviera was as busy as it ever was on a Wednesday noon, filled with a multitude of mammals of different species, enjoying a varied selection of food. To any mammal, this truly was a food paradise.

“Himmel never seen so much good-smelling food before,” she said, surprised.

“I’ve never seen so much food, period,” Skye pointed out. 

“I could eat here forever,” Greg said, savoring his tongue at the sight of the delicious items in front of him. “Why did we never come here before, Uncle? Didn’t Nick use to work here?”

“That’s exactly why we couldn’t come back. Nick didn’t exactly leave on good terms,” the fennec explained.

“Oh, my god, is that Greggy?” a voice in the distance screamed.

“ Greggy? ” Himmel asked, directing her sight to the mysterious voice. It was that of an otter, dangerously running towards the younger arctic fox.

“Oh, hey, Lylla!” Greg said, friendly as ever. Lylla, precariously so, launched herself at the fox and hugged him by the waist, confusing the other foxes. A sunflower-wielding muscular vixen couldn’t help but instinctively growl.

“You…know this otter?” Finnick asked.

“Yeah, this is Sam’s friend, the one who tried to kill me.”

“What??” Himmel asked, now directing herself to the otter, needing an explanation.

“I-I just thought he was the ex Sam mentioned! I got angry ‘cause she’s cool and all that,” Lylla said defensively.

“It’s okay, Himmel, we’re good friends now.” 

She was still apprehensive, but since it was Greg that said it, she calmed down. Just a little bit.

“The ex you’re looking for is him,” Skye pointed at Finnick.

“Whoa whoa, hey, I was never her ex. We were never together like that.”

“I’m aware,” Lylla said. “But you still did something bad to her.” She looked at him with a cutting expression, crossing her arms in disappointment. “I got my eye on you.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Finnick asked, having already been told that a thousand times before. “Anyway, where’s-”

“Sam? Right behind you, Toot-Toot,” said a voice behind him. He recognized it immediately. It was her. He turned around, and the world turned into slow motion. Everything turned to stone except for his movements. When he saw her, his eyes grew wide.

She was wearing the exact same outfit of three days ago, a white jacket, a light blue blouse, and a dark blue denim skirt. The surprise of that moment didn’t give him any time or need to appreciate how it looked on her, but now it was very evidently gorgeous. The skirt hugged her legs tightly, and her jacket accentuated the way the blouse sat on her belly and chest. The way her tail swayed from behind her teased him greatly. Stop looking and say something, stop looking and say something! He couldn’t slap himself out of it, that would make him look even more insane. He had to say something. Anything!

“Toot!”

…

…

…

Absolute disaster. Did he just do that? He can’t believe he just did that. Instead of speaking normally like he should have, he activated the small trunk trumpet, making the iconic Toot sound. Himmel’s mouth hung open, Greg facepalmed, Lylla looked at it incredulously, and Skye was trying very hard not to laugh her heart out. Finnick wanted to hide.

“Pfft-” a spittle came out of Sam’s mouth as soon as she heard his toot. She shut her mouth with both paws before she could start fully laughing, but the way her right leg thumped the ground and the way her eyes watered and her cheeks went up and down didn’t exactly make it a secret.

At least she’s not screaming at me, Finnick thought, half-smiling despite still being kind of embarrassed. Anything other than a bad look was a win in the fox’s book.

What the hell, Sam? You should be screaming at him, get mad!, Sam thought, but she just couldn’t get herself to do it. Something she didn’t keep in mind while giving Greg her rules was that, while people would find his costume hilarious, she would find it funny as well. Trying to be mad at someone wearing a cute elephant costume was an affront to the higher beings. She needed a change of plans.

“Could you…just take off the mask? Leave the suit on, but I really can’t-pffhaha- I c-can’t look at you seriously with that!”

Hearing that was like music to Finnick’s ears. He could talk normally without having to hide his face anymore! This date had started well. Slowly, he took off the annoying hood, and pulled the trunk aside, revealing his full face. Sam’s face improved negatively, to Finnick’s displeasement. 

Sam gasped. It had only been three days! Why did Finnick have bandages on? A messed up eye? A slash across his face? It was like a gang had entered his van and messed up his everything! She looked at Greg for some sort of explanation, but he tried not to look at her, instead focusing on the new aroma of freshly-placed shrimp sticks a few tables to the right.

“Wh-what happened to-” Sam tried to say before Finnick cut her off.

“Why don’t we save all the conversation for when we actually sit down? There’s… quite a lot.”

“I…can see that,” she replied.

“Anyway, introductions out of the way first. Sam, you know Greg already, but meet Skye and Himmel. They’re good friends of mine.”

The aforementioned vixens came from behind him and both went and shook her paw.

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” Skye stated, but then got closer to her ear and said something else “Good luck on this knucklehead, seriously.”

“Hehe, thanks, Skye. I set up two tables, one for you two and another for Greg and Lylla, I hope that isn’t to your discomfort.”

“Speaking like a true server, Sam,” noted Skye. “Relax, you’re not supposed to be working right now. We’re comfortable with whatever. Let’s go, Him.”

“Uh, sure,” said Himmel, still suspiciously observing the otter that would be sitting with Greg but following her sister regardless.

“Our table’s here, Finnick,” Sam called out, walking towards the table numbered six. She had gone ahead and ordered a high chair be placed on his spot instead of a normal seat, possibly to continue his punishment. “Go ahead, Mr. Toot Toot. Take a seat.”

“Sure thing, Whisk-uhh I mean, Samantha.” Finnick cleared his throat and was thankful he didn’t say the whole nickname, even if Sam already heard him. 

Two mammals, an otter and a fox, joined together by a hustle, would now decide whether their friendship is worth being pursued, or whether it should flop and sink to the depths of the sea. Sam and Finnick, two souls in need of healing, but too afraid/stubborn to take the chance. The two took their seats, and looked at the other with nervous eyes, a perilous and indecisive future awaiting them, and with many questions left to be answered. The date begins, and with it, their lives take a much crazier turn.

And Greg? Well, he’s Greg. Nobody knows what the hell is gonna happen to that kid.

TO BE CONTINUED

Chapter Text

Sam was at a complete loss, and by the look of Finnick, he wasn’t having such a swell time either. Sitting down on their respective chairs had the two completely silent. None of them knew how the conversation should start. There were so many things they needed to talk about that neither of them really knew which one should be first in the priority list.

“Look, I-”

“Finnick, I-” 

They spoke in unison, the fennec talking first and the otter talking not a millisecond after.

“Oops, excuse me-” 

“Sorry, my bad-”

It happened again. They both cursed internally.

“Hiya, friends!” a voice said below them, startling Finnick.

“Who the heck are you?” he asked the floor. There was no mammal in his sights that would’ve made that sound.

“Ehem! Right here, sir.”

The squeaky voice belonged to a squirrel dressed in server clothes standing up on the table, carrying a silver platter on his person.

“Hey, Scrat,” Sam told him.

“Hiya, Sammy. I see you’re busy with a date today,” the squirrel commented. He went up to her ear and began to whisper. “If he does funny business, call me and I’ll beat ‘im up, no sweat!”

Seems like someone already did the job for me, thought the otter, still looking intently at the fennec’s wounds.

…

On another table, the strong vixen still looked at the other fox-and-otter pair.

“What is that otter’s deal?”

“You mean Sam? She seemed nice. Honestly, she’s being very tame on Finnick,” said Skye, taking a bite out of a breadstick that had already been placed at their table.

“No, not Sam. The other one. I don’t like the way she is looking at Greg. It is like she is taking off his clothes just with her eyes.”

“By the looks of things, that’s exactly what she wants to do. Why’s that got you so weirded out? Don’t tell me Greg’s actually getting to you. Oh shit, do you like him now, is that it?”

“What? Nonsense, Kee. I am just looking out for him. He is young, stupid, and incredibly naive.”

“Ouch,” Skye put a paw on her heart in solidarity for Greg.

“He could easily be taken advantage of, don’t you think?”

“You know what I think? I think you should eat this highly delicious, very fat-heavy breadstick, and stop getting jelly over an otter having a crush on your crush.”

Himmel tried very hard not to raise her voice. “I am not jelly! And he is not my crush! Himmel don’t crush! You know that.”

Skye realized she had to be the actual adult in this situation. “Look. Like it or not, Greg is head over heels for you. He wouldn’t be bringing you a daily bundle of sunflowers if he wasn’t. I don’t think you should be worried about anyone taking advantage of him except for you.”

“I would never!”

“I know, but I’m saying he probably would only want to be manipulated by you. He’s young, but remember, he’s a hustler, and he used to be a thief. Actually, hustlers are also thieves, but he was a thief thief. Anyway, let's not get into semantics, cunning mammals like that, especially foxes, don’t get used that easily.”

“Hmm,” he took a look at Greg’s table one more time. Lylla was very joyfully talking to him while he also enjoyed the breadsticks served at his table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Himmel looking his way and turned to her. While surprised, Himmel didn’t look any other way, instead choosing to keep staring at him to see how he would react. He put up a warm smile, filled with breadcrumbs, and waved at her with his free paw before he returned to focusing on Lylla. Himmel was surprised at how warm it made her feel.

“Heh. Stupid idiot,” she whispered, putting her left elbow on the table and supporting her head with her paw. She looked back at the sunflowers and caressed the petals softly.

Skye, who had inadvertently seen the whole event play out, became shocked at the state her sister was in. Holy shit, Greg, she thought. I think my sister just fell for you! 

…

Stop having that stupid face when you look at her, you idiot! Greg told himself, cleaning the breadcrumbs away from his snout. If he had known he’d be clamoring for more of those oval-shaped yellow butter-flavored breadsticks, he would’ve asked his uncle to come here sooner, even if there apparently was bad blood between Nick and the restaurant.

They were just sublime. The bite was not soft enough to turn to water in his mouth, nor was it hard enough to make his gums drier than Sahara Square. All that mixed with the special sauce provided to them made Greg’s whole body tremble. He rarely gave himself the luxury of eating such a delicacy due to his monetary issues, but he made a mental note to try and save up for more occasions like these.

“So, Greggy, tell me about yourself,” said the otter in front of him, both elbows on the table and her head resting on her paws.

“What do you wadda dough?” he asked, mouth still full with the succulent bread.

“How old are you?” she asked.

He swallowed the bread before speaking again. “Legal.”

“I mean, yeah, but how old exactly?” she pushed.

“Definitely very early 20s,” he gave another vague answer. He hoped she would take the hint.

She sighed, but not in an annoyed way. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date with someone so young.”

“Whoa, Lylla, hehe,” he adjusted his seat to get closer to her. “We’re not the ones on a date. I don’t even think Sam considers what she’s having with Finnick a date.”

“What, wouldn't you even try to get to know each other? Don’t like otters like that?” She asked, and Greg could notice she was disappointed.

“No, it’s not that! It’s just…I already like someone.”

Her eyes became saucers. “Really? Who?”

“Stick around me long enough and you will naturally find out,” he gave a smug smile. He wasn’t trying to be mysterious or anything, he was genuinely embarrassed about outright saying it to someone he had just met yesterday. Call him crazy, but one didn’t start trusting a mammal until after they’ve hung out at least five times, this was only their second, not to mention she tried to wrung his neck on their first meet-up. A meet cute for the ages, his uncle Nick would say. Greg was amused about being able to keep something like his love for Himmel a secret. Lylla was definitely stumped. She didn’t suspect a thing.

“It’s that vixen over there,” she pointed at Himmel.

Oh.

...

“There’s no need for that, Scrat,” Sam told the squirrel server. There would be no need to beat anyone up today. “I have him sedated.”

“Hey,” Finnick said in half-protest, half-wanting to get the attention of the squirrel. “Are you going to talk here all day or serve me and this fine lady some drinks? White wine most preferably. Or if she would like something else…”

Sam took a few seconds to realize he was waiting for her response. “White wine is fine. Thank you, Scrat.”

The small mammal nodded and began to walk away.

The silence returned as soon as the server made his way to fetch their drinks. The two animals had so much to say to the other, but the words would not come out. It was like a careful game of strategy. Both sides wanted to see how the other would strike first. And it seemed like it was always the same tactic.

“So…”

“So…”

Third time’s the charm. 

“Goddamnit. One of us has to start talking or this will be awkward forever.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam said. I’m angry at him, I’m angry at him, she kept reminding herself, but it was too ridiculous not to want to laugh at their sorry excuse of a lunch. 

“Tell ya what. Let’s do a coin flip,” Finnick pulled out a dime from the pocket of his suit. “Whatever side it lands on is the person that will talk first.”

“Can’t we just decide that ourselves?”

“I think this makes it both fairer and easier for both of us. ‘Sides, it should be kinda fun, right?”

“Fun, yeah,” Sam replied, sarcastically. “Well, I’m tails.”

“Alright, then I’m heads,” Finnick said, not even trying to dispute it. With a flick of his paw, the coin was in the air, turning and moving in multiple direction before making a quick drop into the table with a loud ping. After rolling around for a few seconds, it finally landed on one of the sides.

“Heads,” Sam said with a smile. “Guess it’s your time to shine, foxy.”

“That it is, then. Fair is fair. First off, I don’t know if this helps, but I really am sorry for what I did to you. I won’t apologize for how much I enjoyed the food, but the way I made you think I was someone else was definitely wrong, and for that I truly apologize, and I really hope we can move past it.”

He dared not look straight at her. He did a single look, and it showed her thinking. He wasn’t very sure about exactly what.

“No,” was Sam’s reply.

“N-no?” Finnick asked fearfully.

“I won’t forgive you. Or at least, not now. I barely know who you are, Finnick. You could be a totally different fox from the one I imagined in my head. You could still be trying to trick me into buying you this lunch. Before I even think about getting past what you did to me, you have to do more than just dress funny and act apologetic. If you give, then I’ll try and give back. That’s how it works.”

That undoubtedly made sense to Finnick. She didn’t know just how deep his hustle went, and he was not afraid to prove to her that it wasn’t as deep as she thought. “Where should I start?” Finnick asked.

“Just…say whatever you want me to know.”

At that point, Scrat had brought them their drinks, a bottle big enough for it to be shared by two small mammals, and two wine cups, a smaller one for Finnick. He gave it a sip and let the sweetness of the wine pass through his throat before he began telling his story. 

“A little over twenty years ago, there was this snail…” Finnick began, eyeing Sam to see how she had reacted to the beginning of his tale. As expected, she narrowed her eyes. He knew it was a bizarre beginning to what should be a story about his life. “It went at a slow pace, not really going anywhere specific. It was during a very cool summer, and the kids were out just enjoying their school-free lives. This snail did a good job not being noticed, until a little fox cub discovered it. He had never seen a snail before, and so was very curious about it.”

Sam began to analyze the story in her head. Okay, so 20 years ago, so this is Finnick’s childhood. He also mentioned a fox cub, so that’s probably him discovering the snail. Why put so much emphasis on it, though? I shouldn’t get ahead of myself and let him finish the story. Hehe, FINNish the story…you’re going insane, Sam.

“As every child does when they are curious, he touched the snail. As expected, it was slimy, and sticky, and made his fur the same exact way. 

A giraffe from the same apartment complex where the cub’s family lived witnessed this act, and didn’t miss an opportunity to tell the little fox that the snail was poisonous. The little fox obviously didn’t know any better, and the urgency from the giraffe made it feel real. The fox began to tear up. He didn’t want to get sick and make his mama upset for touching what he shouldn’t have touched. So the fox begged the giraffe to keep it a secret and to please tell him what could be the cure to this poison.”

Oh no, Sam thought. She had a bad feeling about how that story would end.

“Somehow, all the kids around the block had developed a ‘magic concoction’ that would get rid of the poison on my body. First, they sprayed him ‘like a good dog’. That’s what they told the little fox. Did I mention he was about seven years old? Anyway, they get a spray bottle and start dousing me with this weird smelly substance…” Without really wanting to, he dropped the third person perspective, now fully letting Sam know that the fox cub had been him. “...which smelled a lot like gasoline, combined with some perfume, and maybe some kind of body lotion. Oh yeah, and water to liquify it more.”

At that point, Sam’s eyes could not get any wider and her paws any closer to her face, shocked at how they had treated him. While it still gave no explanation to his hustling, she could definitely believe this kind of bullying would take place. Children tended to be very cruel to predators, and she had been a target back in the day as well.

“So yeah, at this point, I’m totally drenched in that, but then they tell me that it’s not enough, that I already got snail poison running through my veins, and the only way to fully cure it was to swallow it. So there I was, spray bottle in hand, the lid already off, the kids expectantly waiting for me to drink it. I was still scared they were telling the truth, so what the heck else would I have done? I was a snotty brat who didn’t know better, so I swallowed it whole. I can still feel the taste in my tongue if I think about it too hard.”

She saw his distressed face, and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. “Finnick…I’m sorry that happened.”

“I’m not done, Whiskers,” he said. Sam didn’t protest the nickname that time. “Soon as I drank that, my stomach did not agree that it was good for me, but I believed so much that it was my cure to the snail poison, that I fought my urge to throw it all up, tooth and claw. Up until the second I fainted.

“You fainted?” asked…not Sam, but someone at his table.

“Scrat? What are you doing here?” Sam asked the interrupting squirrel.

“Just came in to tell you that the meal is coming along splendidly. Gerald is really busting his butt to make it the ‘best’ it can be,” he winked and left, but Finnick still saw it with a puzzling expression. Sam had a permanent awkward smile etched on her mouth.

“...Okay? Should I keep going?”

“Yeah, of course. If you’re comfortable with it, that is.”

“I’m not exactly comfortable, but I’ve already started, so I might as well finish it. Hehe, FINNish it, get it? Sorry, bad joke.” Finnick filled his cup to the brim with wine and drank it down like his throat was a waterfall. To Sam, it didn’t even feel like he had even needed to swallow, and maybe telling the story was making him queasy and anxious about tasting what he was drinking.

“Anyway, I kept coming in and out of consciousness, from what I remember. I never forgot what I kept saying, though. Everytime I woke up and looked at a doctor, I used all of my energy to grab their coats and say ‘It’s snail poison, it’s snail poison. Don’t blame my friends’. I was in a medically induced coma for two weeks to get the liquid out of my system, but the damage was already done. The ‘magic concoction’ was so severe, it damaged the ossification capabilities of my bones. Meaning, my bones were not able to grow to full size, which is why I’m probably a bit smaller than all other fennecs my age-”

“Finnick,” Sam interrupted him, placing a paw on top of his trembling one. He had told this story before, but never to someone like her. She was different in many ways. She had seen most of his inner feelings already, if the texts are to be considered. He wasn’t playing a person in them, it was just him. He didn’t need to play a role in messages, because the person on the other side wouldn’t be able to psychoanalyze all your mannerisms. “That’s enough. You don’t have to tell me everything right away, especially if you’re not comfortable.”

“B-but I owe it to you, I-” Finnick tried to say, but his voice wavered. For the first time in ages, he was struggling to say anything clever.

“You don’t owe me your life story. You want us to be friends, right? At this point, you’ve more than proven that you want us to take that step, and I appreciate it.” She squeezed his hand a bit more, to show that she truly cared. “And for the record, I’m really sorry about what happened. I don’t think I ever got punished that severely, but I was also abused by kids who thought they were better than me.”

Finnick knew he wasn’t the only one to ever get bullied. After all, he had listened to Nick’s boy scout story plenty of times before. He used to sing it like a ballad every time he drank too much. But knowing that a fox and an otter were also not that different gave him some peace of mind.

“You can tell me how you gave them their just desserts at a later date,” Finnick said, to break out of the tense environment between each other, and it worked. Sam released air from her nose and retreated her paw from his, slumping back on her chair.

“A later date, huh? Already planning ahead?” Sam teased.

“If I play my cards right, who knows what might happen?” Finnick teased back, nonchalantly drinking some more wine.

“Alright then, playfox. You told me all of that so I guess I owe you…let’s say three questions. Ask whatever you want, and then I’ll go ahead and ask you three questions.”

“I accept your terms,” Finnick smiled, feeling more loose and open to share a comfortable time with Sam. “First question: Is calling you Sam and/or Whiskers still off the table?”

“You’re wasting a question on naming conventions?”

“Am I? Yes, yes I am.”

She sighed, also taking a sip from her wine. “You may call me as you wish if I also get to call you as I wish. Fair is fair.”

Finnick chuckled. “Do your worst, Whiskers.”

“Okay then, Finny, what’s your second question?”

That the best you can come up with, Sam? Finnick thought. He wanted to figure out more names to call her, but he still needed to ask the second question. There was no time to waste. “Why are you wearing the same clothes from Sunday?”

Sam opened her mouth, then closed it, then looked down at herself. “You remembered what I was wearing?”

“How could I not? You looked -still look- great in them.”

“Oh,” Sam blushed. “T-thank you. I mostly just chose it to say that I am still kinda angry but that also we never got to do the proper meet-up, so this is like a restart.”

“Huh, that’s a nice thought.” Finnick took a moment to inspect his current wardrobe. “Don’t you think you could’ve told me that on your list? I could’ve worn the same clothes instead of this old rag.”

“And miss the opportunity of seeing you in a cute elephant outfit? Not a chance.”

“Could’ve done without the toot, though…” Finnick pulled the hood up and hid his eyes in embarrassment.

Sam laughed. “That was the best part, though, hahaha!”

“Laugh it up, Whiskers, laugh it up,” he said as he sighed.

“Thank you, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

After a small moment of silence, Finnick decided to state his third question. “How well do you know Nick?”

She took a moment to answer. “Not well enough. Mostly because we haven’t really, uh, hung out. Judy and him tend to be really busy.”

“Yeah I get it. That stuff with the Royclaws.”

“It’s scary, thinking there was some rich bastard making more of those awful flowers.”

“Believe me, there’s probably another rich bastard planning a way to use them at this very moment. People with money only want more money, and to have more money they need control.”

“Makes sense. You never…got caught up in a savage mammal attack, right?”

“That your first question?” Finnick asked her, emptying the glass of wine again.

“Well, if you want to be petty, then sure.”

He scratched the table with one of his dull claws. “I think a small lemming tried eating my leg?”

“...excuse me?”

“Yeah, I was out selling pawpsicles like I usually do, but instead of wanting one of my tasty treats, they really wanted to try fennec meat. He chewed on my legs for a few minutes until I noti-”

“Hahahaha! That cannot be true!”

“Totally real, why would I fake something so bizarre?” He threw his hands in the air and shrugged. 

“You’re not gonna get away from paying me back by making me laugh, you know?” Sam told him, snapping him back to reality.

“Right. How much-” He got up from his chair to pull out his wallet and give her the money he owed her. But she had other plans.

“Upupup,” she waved her hand at him, shooing him back to his seat. “The date isn’t over yet. I still have two more questions for you.”

“Ask away, then.”

“Alright. Why are you and Nick not on speaking terms?”

Finnick winced. He didn’t think he’d be asked about something so personal right off the bat. He asked very tame questions in comparison, but he didn’t blame Sam for wanting to go all out. “You could ask him. He’s the one who doesn’t call me anymore,” he said with a frown.

“Communication goes both ways, though. What if he’s waiting for you to call him?”

“I doubt it. He’s very comfortable in his cop life, with his cop job and his cop girlfriend. And like you said, he’s got hardly any time to catch up with anyone.”

“Greg seems to speak highly of him. He doesn’t seem mad that Nick left.”

“Because he doesn’t get mad at anything. He’s always been that way, from the moment we found him.”

“Found him?” Sam asked.

“Third question?” Finnick asked back. Sam nodded, so he continued. “Long story short, Greg isn’t really our nephew. Someone, I won’t mention who, tasked us to find this thief about ten years ago. Our source told us they were most active in Tundratown, so that’s where we went to investigate one night. It didn’t take long for him to show his face. Next thing we know, he steals my wallet, but then we easily corner him in an alleyway.”

“And that kid was Greg?” Sam finished for him. This time, he nodded.

“Yep. Nick was always a big softie, so he was instantly taken by the kit. I just wanted to finish the job and go on my merry way, but Nick decided that we should just raise him. He was crazy for even suggesting that, insane even,” Finnick gave a small glance at the fox to his right, now taking a stab at a selection of assorted seafood. He smiled. “But that little bastard got in both our heads very quickly. Even more so when we realized he was abandoned by his parents.”

“That’s awful. It doesn’t look like it’s affecting him much right now, though. He’s certainly an optimist,” Sam commented.

“Don’t I know it, heh.”

She smiled at Finnick, although he was still warmly smiling at the sight of the gluttonous fox breaking apart the head of a lobster like it was a piece of chicken leg. She didn’t think he realized the gentleness and adoration that came from that simple smile. A smile only a proud parent would give to their child. It made her happy, and sad, and nostalgic in all the right ways. She couldn’t control what she said next.

“I wasn’t much of an optimist when my parents…”

Finnick turned to her, focused on her facial expressions as she said that. “When they what?”

“Let’s just say they’re not really around anymore. I was pretty sad when it happened. They were my world, and it felt like they took away part of what I was. Thankfully, they knew a friend who could take me in, and he raised me since, until I got this job and my apartment, at least.”

“I’m…sorry. I think we can safely say we four didn’t have perfect childhoods.”

“Understatement of the century, Finny.”

He grabbed the bottle, now half-empty. “More wine?” he asked softly. 

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

…

“Hmm. What’s her plan with him?” Himmel asked, chomping on the right breast of a rotisserie chicken and still observing Greg and Lylla. “Yum! This Gerald knows how to cook.”

“You’re still on that? Leave Greg be, Himmel.”

“I already told you it’s not him I’m worried about.”

“She’s an otter. She couldn’t possibly be able to sway him,” she put up a provocative smile. “I have a feeling Greg is into mammals of your caliber only.”

“Otters are carnivores too, Skye, it’s not anything special.”

Skye’s eye twitched and she struggled not to facepalm. “I meant your height, and those crazy big arms of yours. Greg likes them.”

“Wha-? Be serious, sis.”

“Oh, I’m terribly serious, sister. I’ve seen the way he looks at them. He gets hypnotized, like he’s looking at some sort of meaty pendulum.”

She looked at Skye like she had seen the most uninteresting movie known to mammals. “You’re saying he likes my arms more than, say, my face?”

“Obviously, Himmel! I’m not saying he just likes your arms. Compare yours to Lylla’s! They’re night and day. Not to mention how much taller than him you are. He likes that too!”

“Seriously? Why?”

Skye couldn’t believe she was about to educate her sister on kinks. “Look, think of it like this. You know how people like getting in roller coasters and how it rocks them back and forth and it gives them an adrenaline rush? Well, he probably wants you to treat him like that.”

“You mean, wave him around like a ragdoll? You serious?”

“For the umpteenth time, yes! Obviously he’s a good guy and wouldn’t say that to your face, but that’s something he would want if he were to get with you.”

“You seem to know a lot about him.”

“I gotta know the guy who’s tryin’ to get with my sister. You know I got your back.”

She smiled at her sister, but despite the vixen’s words of encouragement, Himmel couldn’t help but feel a small pit in her throat. She hadn’t known the fox for a while, but she knew he was a bit more innocent than any other tods who were ever interested in her, and she’d feel bad if something were to happen to someone who held her in such high regard. She was still observing them, Lylla spewing a whole deal of words that Himmel couldn’t quite hear through the cacophony of other sounds in the busy restaurant. Greg had an awkward expression throughout it, like he was uncomfortable with whatever Lylla was saying. She could only imagine what obscene things she was telling him.

…

“...and that’s why I think it’s completely normal and doable for Miss Hopps and Mr. Wilde to be together.”

“Why…” Greg had no words to speak. The wind took them as soon as he tried to bring them out of his mouth. 

“Why tell you about it? Cuz I’m bored, and gossiping about them is cool!”

“That wasn’t even gossip, you just explained to me why you think they’d be good in…in…”

“Bed? Because it’s true. I’m very liberal in matters of romance, and I was trying to tell you that the relationship between your uncle and Judy Hopps is completely normal and should never be frowned upon.”

“I appreciate it but,” Greg tried not to think about what she had told him for about thirty minutes. He could see glimpses of the words in his mind, like ‘thrust’ and ‘size’. He tried hard but the images she tried to picture for him would not leave him alone. “You could’ve just told me that instead of giving a whole lecture for their ‘viability’!”

“You, my dear Greg, are no fun.”

“When it comes to sex, I try NOT to imagine my family members doing it, thank you very much.”

“Okay, then, should we talk about your experiences, then?” She asked him, with a sultry air about her.

“Ehhhh, pfffft why do thaaat? It’s very uninteresting, and uhhh, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable and…stuff.” In reality, he was trying not to make himself more uncomfortable than he already was.

“Your first kiss! Come on, that’s not prude at all!”

“Oh,” he said, sounding relieved. “Well…I don’t…think I ever…have…”

Lylla’s face turned downward. “Oh. Sorry about pressuring you like that, Greg. I know it might be a bit sensitive-”

“Look, I’ve been close to. I’ve had some crushes before, but the way I’ve lived…there’s not really many opportunities open, ya know?”

She smiled. “I know. If it makes you feel better, my first kiss wasn’t anything out of the world, either. It was just to say I did it, and even then it was a very formal kiss, no sensuality about it. It was with a childhood friend of mine. His name was Rocket. Actually, that was just his nickname. He said he would build a rocket to the moon, and sign both our names on the surface, and then come back to get me so we could explore the galaxy together. It was dumb, I know, but all kids are dumb dreamers.”

Greg saw the weight of the conversation turning more somber as Lylla took a gulp of the wine she had left mostly untouched. He sat quietly, hearing her story out. 

“After that kiss, the idiot and his family moved somewhere else, away from Zootopia. Do you think he left me an address, a message, or something to remember him by? Nope. Nada. He meant so much to me, and it seemed like to him I didn't even mean a thank you letter. For a moment he was there, and in an instant he was gone.”

“Lylla,” he said softly. “I know what it feels like to be alone in this world. To feel like no one is ever going to care whether you breathe your last breath. I saw a fair share of that. People leaving me behind to die, to fend for myself.” Greg looked to his uncle, the fennec sitting at the table to his left. “Heh, but I got lucky. I found my crowd, my clique, my pack. The ones who would never ever leave me behind to die. Well, maybe one of them wanted to at first,” he side-eyed Finnick again. “But then he warmed up to me, and I warmed up to him. Lylla, if Rocket truly cares about you, he will be back. I’m sure of it. Maybe he’s out exploring the galaxy so he could come back with stories to tell you. I don’t know, I just think it’s better to look at it from a different perspective.”

“A different perspective, huh?” Lylla chuckled. “You’re cool, Greg. Sorry again for trying to kill you.”

“Maybe you actually just wanted to hug me to death,” he joked, and she laughed. “See what I did? Different perspective.”

“That’s certainly an amazing skill you have.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “Okay, then, sad stories over. What if we both came to an agreement?”

“An agreement?” he asked.

“You help me try and find Rocket, and I’ll see what I can do about getting Himmel to like you.”

“YOU-D-” he screamed, but remembered that Himmel was only a few feet away from him. “You’d do that for me?”

“My dear Greg,” she put a paw to her heart. “What are friends for if not to help each other?”

Greg was overjoyed. Someone as perceptive and smart as Lylla was sure to be a very capable ally in conquering Himmel’s heart. He wouldn’t want to completely get her help, obviously, that would be very fake of him. It would be all up to him in the end, and he would make sure of that. It was also no bother for him to look for a friend’s lost lover. “My dear Lylla, you got a deal!” he said, a bit loud, but hopefully away from Himmel’s ears.

“Splendid!” she said succinctly, shaking Greg’s paw with a mischievous smile posted on her face. Not that Greg would notice it, anyway. She did want to help him, of course, but maybe she could delay the inevitable and have some fun along the way. After all, otters were nothing if not playful, and Lylla was no different. Apart from water, she loved games the most, and nothing was more exciting than the game of life. She twirled the fur of his paw with one of her claws before the shake stopped and they got back to talking about more trivial stuff. “What color of underwear do you think he’s wearing?” She asked him, referring to the squirrel server on his way to Sam and Finnick’s table.

…

“Bon appetit, monsieur and madame!” Scrat, the squirrel server Finnick didn’t like much, said, approaching their table. He had on his paws a large plate, but the food was still covered by the cloche. Finnick knew this thanks to Sam’s shared knowledge, otherwise it would’ve just been the ‘big silver thing that hides food from you at restaurants’. Finnick never liked surprises.

“I didn’t see you order this, Sam,” Finnick mentioned.

“I, uhh, ordered it before you came. Thought it would be, um, funny, in hindsight, but now…” Her face looked worried.

“Enjoy!” said the squirrel, opening the cloche to something truly…foul-smelling. A simple sniff of the stench was enough to put Finnick in a chokehold. He pushed the plate away and clutched at his chest. Somehow, the air itself was stabbing him.

“What the hell is in that food?” he asked hurriedly and loudly, gaining the attention of most of the table, including Greg’s and Skye’s.

Sam, terribly enough, was getting used to the attention, so she wasn’t as embarrassed. “It’s chicken soup…mixed with C4.”

“C4?! There’s a bo-” Finnick tried to say before Sam shut his snout with both of her paws.

“C4 as in the sauce, dummy! Cayenne, Cajun, Cumin, and Clawrolina Reaper mixed together!”

She let go of his mouth, thinking he won’t say anything that might get them both in jail. “You tried to poison me?” Clearly, she thought wrong.

“Of course not,” she said, her eyes lowering and her mouth turning downward in slight anger. “Judy told me that Nick told her that you didn’t like spice so I thought it would be a fun little prank on you, but I guess your nose really didn’t fail to notice it.”

“How could I not? It’s like a freight train ran over my lungs from inside out.”

“Oh, come on, you’re exaggerating.”

“Oh yeah? Take a whiff, then, Whiskers, have at it. Smell how good it is.”

“Hey, I’m not supposed to smell it, this is for you.”

“So, you’re just gonna throw me to the dragon’s lair, unchecked?” Finnick said, his arms crossed.

“What do you even mean by that?”

“I mean, what if your little friend there actually hates foxes and actually put poison in there for me to drink?”

“That is one insane reach, Finny. Besides, I’ve known Scrat for years, he doesn’t hate a soul.”

“Foxes have no soul, Whiskers, haven’t you heard?”

She sighed. “Look, it was funny at first, but now it’s fine if you don’t eat it. What with your eating story and all that.”

Finnick didn’t look grateful. In fact, he was the complete opposite of it. “Are you pitying me?”

“What?” Sam asked, confused. She thought she was doing him a solid with this! “No, I’m just being considerate.”

“Sam, considerate matters squat. Yeah, I drank actual poison and it took me to the hospital but that was like 25 years ago, it’s not like this is the same thing. I don’t need anyone to tell me what I can or can’t drink anymore. I know which people are and aren’t my friends. I deserve this anyway, you know that. Like you said, this is supposed to be a punishment.”

She was at a loss. Her sense of justice felt wrong. She knew this wasn’t the right thing, but it appeared his mind was already made up. He wanted to drink the terribly spicy food, a prank orchestrated by Sam herself. Her own sense of retribution had turned back around as some kind of sick karma. She couldn’t do this to the fennec. She couldn’t let him suffer alone.

“Ugh, the things my stupid brain makes me do,” said Sam.

“What do you me-” he got interrupted by Sam picking up the bowl of hot soup and not just smelling it, but taking a huge gulp of it, enough for some of the liquid to run down her mouth and landing on her white jacket.

“Aw, man,” she cursed out loud, “I hope that doesn't leave a stain.”

“What…why did you do that?” Finnick asked. 

The heat from the C4 was already pinching at her throat, but she did her best to answer. “This is a bowl for two. I don't think you can finish it yourself, Fen.”

“That’s supposed to be for me,” he told her, not really paying attention to her new attempt at a nickname that would stick.

“I bought it, didn't I? So it's for me and you. Now stop delaying the inevitable and take a sip.”

“So, what, we're gonna pass it around like a blunt?”

“Don’t be crude,” she frowned, but then smiled soon after. “We’re gonna pass it around like a good ol’ bubbly!”

Finnick sighed, taking the bowl into his paws, and releasing it a second after. “Shit! This bowl’s hot!”

“It’s soup, Finny. It’s kinda obvious it’s hot.”

Grumbling, but not exactly denying that what he did was dumb, Finnick grabbed the bowl a bit higher up the second time, and swallowed a bit of the soup, even eating a piece of the chicken drowned in it. The kick was almost instantaneous, as the first wave of pain coursed through his tongue, then through the esophagus, all the way to his stomach. It was pure, unwavering fire. Another reason he hated spice and most Zooxican food, was how gassy it made him, and he really did not want to embarrass himself further by letting out air from his rear end in front of an otter he was undeniably crushing on.

“Tell ya what,” Sam said, before taking another sip of the food equivalent to the devil himself. “Let’s make this a game. Whichever one of us even attempts to order milk first, loses. The loser will then have to answer another, much more personal question asked by the winner. Deal?”

“Sam,” Finnick said, exhausted. He felt as if he had run a twenty-mile marathon across Sahara Square, with about three layers of clothing. He felt himself pant, but tried to hide it as much as possible from Sam, trying to keep his tongue as inside his mouth as it could be. “You. Shall not. Prevail. I accept this challenge!” He had to show her. She had to know that he would do whatever he set himself to do. Only then would she realize how much it mattered to him for her to trust him.

The two mammals began their bout, both turning red from the amount of heat radiating their bodies. While Finnick didn’t sweat and relied on his panting to keep cool, Sam’s only means of cooling down was a source of water, and that would mean losing the challenge, which she wouldn’t do. Like any otter, Sam enjoyed games very much, and something about Finnick made her want to play and win even more. This would show him that she was feisty, brave, and would keep up with even some hustler like him. She admitted she probably didn’t have the social skills to pull off his schemes, but that didn’t mean she was completely useless in getting her way, and it seemed like she was playing Finnick like a fiddle, which did make her more confident about herself, especially after the terrible week of feeling vulnerable due to Max. So far to Sam, it was clear that this date was not a failure at all, and she had no qualms in calling it that anymore. It was a date, plain and simple.

Finnick’s face screamed Kill me, and he hoped that’s how it looked to Sam too. She was smiling at him, even through all the pain she was possibly experiencing as well. The gall that she had! To still smile so smugly even as she herself was in pain. Finnick couldn’t help but like that. The otter he had met at the diner a week ago was a very shallow surface view of Sam the otter, but what he was seeing now? It was purely somebody else. Somebody who didn’t care about being in danger, or sticking up for themselves when it called for it. But even beyond all of that, there was her warm, forgiving nature. Finnick could not, in any sense of certainty, say he would forgive someone who had hustled them as badly as he did Sam, and yet here they were, sharing a soup of carnage together, bonding through pain and sweat(and panting) and some tears and some mouths filled with foamy saliva. Goddamnit, stop drinking! He pleaded to her with his eyes, but they replied back with a resounding No! and she drank again. Finnick checked the bowl and it was only halfway done. Even as he tilted it on his mouth, the bottom was still far from visible. 

This might be the day Sam dies. That’s what she was imagining as she drank the heated poison, bit by bit. As it was typical of a Gerald-made dish, it was tasty. Delicious, even. But he took her request way too literally. She remembers it clear as day(it happened literally thirty minutes ago): “Drown it, Gerald! Put as much C4 in it as you can. I want him to taste my vengeance!”

Okay, she didn’t say it like that, but that’s how her numbed out brain imagined it. Did she have teeth? She had teeth, right? She couldn’t tell anymore, all she knew was that she had a mouth, otherwise the soup would be dropping on the table, along with her tears. She pinched her cheeks, but felt no pain at all. It was like anesthesia, except the numbness itself was also painful.

“Giff ub yet?” She asked, not speaking well through her fiery mouth.

“In your dreamth, Whithkers,” Finnick said, his tongue proportionally fatter than before.

“Here's some milk for ya, kids,” said Scrat. 

“W-we didn't,” Sam started. “We didn't order anyffing!”

“Gerald wanted to give it to you. He said you were looking as red as a tomato there.”

She looked at Gerald with hateful eyes, who was still at the kitchen counter, waving at her with a shit-eating grin. She felt tempted to throw a middle finger at him, but elected to just drink more soup as a bigger show of insult.

“You shure you don't want milk?” Finnick asked. His tongue was swelling by the minute. “It looks delishiouth.”

“Iff it’s phat delithious, you should haff ib,” Sam said, aggressively pushing the bowl so that he could keep drinking.

“I’m bein’ a conshiderate date!” he said, drinking more and also aggressively pushing the bowl her way.

“Like you were conshiderate during your huffle??” She drank again, and pushed it again.

“Ah fennec’s gotta eat! In this sothiety, you do whatever you can to shhhurvive!” He drank again, and pushed it again.

“Yoo are inshufferable!” She drank.

“You moh!” He drank.

The scuffle turned restaurant-wide, as every patron in the establishment looked at Sam and Finnick, sending all deal of insults each other’s way, but none of them drinking milk. Even Bucky and Pronk were quiet, listening in on the mammals’ irate banter. 

With two final gulps from Sam, the soup was gone. She was wheezing, and wanted nothing else than to submerge herself and drink as much water as she could. “I…*hic* win. Hehe.”

“A bull’s manure, you did! None of us drank milk, so it’s a draw!”

“Correction: none of ush ordered milk. Gerald jush gev it to ush. But I fibished the shoup, which makes me a winner!”

“That washn’t even what the game wash about!”

“I…if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom!” Sam ran away, no longer able to control her desire for water. There were three whole water bottles in her locker that she could use to freshen up. Screw the game, she needed to drink!

“Hey, come back here, this isn’t over,” Finnick screamed, but she was long out of earshot, and in a flash he was all alone at his table. He felt lightheaded, and his ears were boiling hot. Finnick still did not want to drink the milk. He was always too proud for his own good, and this time wasn’t an exception either. His eyes were fixated on that bottle like it was the most expensive wine ever conceived by a mammal. His tongue wanted nothing more than to be satiated by that liquid.

I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. He kept repeating in his mind. He would show her. He would show that he would be the clear winner! He would not drink a single drop of milk until she got back. Not even if it kills him!

...

Sam dumped two water bottles on herself and drank the last one. Three bottles were not enough, so she instead opted for the next best thing: Tap water. Her tongue wasn’t burning as much anymore, but her skin and fur still felt hot, so she dropped as much water on her head as she could.

“Date going well?”

“Salmonella with jelly! Don’t scare me like that!” Sam jumped out of the tap water’s stream. She sealed the valve before it turned into a flood. “We did not need your help, Gerald.”

“You were looking pretty swollen out there, just making sure you don’t die. C4 is one of the hottest sauces ever made, after all.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling me, not like I didn’t freaking drink that crazy soup.”

“I thought it was only for the fox, why’d you drink it too?”

She sighed. “He was poisoned as a child. Do you realize how awful I would be if I just let him drink that by himself?”

“What if he was hustling you again? What if he faked that story too?”

“No, I don’t think so. He didn’t even know I would do that to him. And this time…he wasn’t being overly theatrical. I could tell it was hard for him to get it out of his system.”

“Well, I won’t get in your way. You two want ice cream? On the house.”

“Thanks, Gerald, that should be a real help. Don’t put mustard on it, though.”

“Heard, Chef,” he mocked her, going back to the kitchen. Sam figured she shouldn’t leave the poor fennec alone anymore, so she went back to the table.

...

“Where did the milk bottle go?” Sam asked, just looking at their wine bottle and two cups.

“Oh, ummm, Greg tried something spicy and said he wanted it. See? It’s on his table.”

She looked over, and she could see the milk bottle, completely empty, with Greg trying to look at her with as much of an innocent expression as possible. “Finny…” she said slowly.

“...yeah?” 

“Did you drink the milk?”

“Oh, so you don’t trust me? I am truthfully telling you that Greg drank the mil-”

“You are no longer panting, you no longer have a swollen tongue, and your elephant suit is literally wet with milk. We’re 2 inches apart and I can smell it on your breath.”

“...okay, yeah, I did it,” he said, sounding defeated.

“You really have no nerve, trying to hustle me again,” she told him.

“H-Hey now, that was all in good f-fun, no need to be rash.”

She chuckled. “You know? I kinda enjoy seeing you flustered. Don’t worry, Finny, I forgive ya. Again!”

“How generous,” Finnick said, going back to his grumpy expression. “Now please no more spicy food.”

“While you shouldn’t be allowed to make demands,” Sam said confidently, “I will grant you that wish.”

Scrat came to their table with two cups of ice cream, each filled with five scoops. It was a welcomed switch-up. The soft and cold texture was joyous to Finnick’s tongue, and it tasted amazing. He was glad his taste buds didn’t burn off from the C4. 

“Okay, I’ve come to a decision,” said Sam. “If we were to talk about everything we needed to talk about right now, I think this date would go on forever, so I’m cutting it short.”

“And what kind of decision have you come to?” Finnick asked.

“Finny, you are guilty of everything you have done to me, and every tear I dropped because of you was as real as sea salt. But…I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and forget about it. Not exactly forgive, but at least you can be sure that I will not hold anything you did against you. After all, you are a hustler, and you just wanted to eat for free.”

Was this real? Was she actually letting it slide? Finnick couldn’t believe her kindness. He gave a smile, one he gave to almost no one. “Th-thank you, Sam. I promise I will be better, you won’t regret your decision.”

“This doesn’t mean you’re not free from paying me back, though,” she reminded him.

“Right,” Finnick pulled out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“One million dollars.”

“EXCUSE ME?” he asked her, alarmed. Sam wasn’t surprised. That exorbitant amount of money would be incredibly difficult to obtain, even for a smart fox like Finnick.

“Those are your hustler fees. A guy like you that thrives in cheating other people has probably stolen about that much. You’re in your thirties, right?” Finnick was silent, but he still nodded at her answer. “Then that means depending on how long you’ve been a hustler, you’ve skillfully gained about that much.”

“I don’t have that kind of dough, Sam! Even if I skipped every meal of the day and hustled 24/7 it would take me like ten years to have all of that.”

“I can wait, and I can provide the food so you keep working.”

“I…you can’t be serious.”

“I’m as serious as can be. Those are your hustler fees. I’m sure you’ll find a way to pay me back.”

Wait…my hustler fees? This is the second time she’s said that, it can’t be a coincidence. Finnick’s mind started churning, deciphering why she would specify his profession. Then it hit him.

“So…what are my normal fees?” he asked her.

“Excuse me?”

“You said those are my hustler fees, so they must be inflated based on how you deem my punishment for being a hustler. But what if I earned the money completely legally? What if I found a job that would grant me an honest day’s work, like yourself? What, then, Sam? Those fees should be fairly adjusted, correct?”

Sam kept feigning ignorance, but couldn’t hide her smirk. “What a perceptive fox you are. Honestly should’ve guessed. You’re right. Your normal fee would be 200 bucks, a perfectly reasonable amount. But, like you said, you have to earn it honestly. Don’t worry, though, I know how hard it is for foxes to find jobs, which is why if you do have trouble finding a gig, I could help ya out.”

“That’s…still so crazy generous of you.”

“Because despite me trying to hate you, I kinda already consider you a friend, and I don’t like seeing my friends struggling. You’re also Nick’s friend, and I would do anything to repay the kindness he’s given me.”

Finnick tried to dispute the fact about Nick being his friend. He didn’t consider the red fox as anything these days. But he went silent out of fear of making things bad again. This was progress, and he didn’t want to screw it up.

“I also have one more condition,” said Sam. Finnick’s face contorted. “Don’t worry, this one isn’t that bad. Whenever you have your very legal money, don’t give it to me right away. You will keep it, and I will tell you when to use it.”

“I’m…confused.”

“What’s there to be confused about? We’re gonna be hanging out, aren’t we? Whenever we go somewhere, maybe another date or whatever, I will tell you how much of what you owe you can spend. It makes it more fun and I get to bother you more. It also relieves you a bit from having to pay a lot of money on the spot.”

“Wait, hold on…you said more dates?” Finnick asked. He didn’t know why he felt so giddy.

“Yep,” Sam said, popping the p at the end. “You’re still kind of a mystery to me, Fen, and I kinda want to know more. Maybe about how you survived against that savage lemming,” she said, chuckling. “Well, do you agree with the terms?”

Do you not see my happy face, otter? Finnick thought to himself as he quickly noticed he was in fact, not smiling. He guessed that was why she wasn’t sure yet. “Yeah. To be honest, I was half-expecting you to throw this wine on my face whenever you had the chance.”

“It’s still on the table if that’s what you’re into,” she joked. He blushed.

“You think you’re so funny,” he said, smiling. She smiled as well. He turned to Greg, who was giving him a thumbs up while he had a crab’s claw in his mouth.

“I just find myself around a lot of smartasses, lately,” she said, looking straight at him. 

He chuckled weakly, being amused but also finding himself intimidated by her staring. He had to look away. Suddenly, he found himself a bit thirsty, and had to drink some more of the wine to calm his dry mouth and sudden nerves.

“Anyway,” he said gently. “It’s still very early. Wanna hit up a bar?”

Chapter Text

Evidence for Case #002-160297

Agency: Zootopia Police Dept. Precinct #2

Collected by: Officer Quill

Date: 02/16/1997

Description: Confession Letter disguised as a school essay that the suspect gave to his Psychology Teacher.

Location: Barry Boghorn High School.

Letter reads as follows:

On the Hipocrisy of Stars 

by Finnick(1)

I hate names. Always have, always will. First of all, you can’t really choose it, and no matter if there’s a legal way to change it, a lot of people will still abide by calling you by your original name. They’re used to calling you that, so why should they change? Why should they change for you? More importantly, why should they change for me? That’s why I’ve decided to not go through the hassle of legally changing my name, so I will just change it now, and beat the hell out of whoever calls me by my old one. 

Crazy change, right? Well, it wouldn’t have crossed my mind at all if this school wasn’t full of bullies like you, Mr. Woolson(2). How do I start with you? Graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychological teachings, but due to several infractions committed while living on the school campus, you can’t put a single one of your rotten paws in it. I want to know how much money you bribed the principal to get in? How much money did your grubby little hooves have to shell out before they could let you teach here? How much money did you pay afterwards to excuse your predator students coming home from school with all kinds of wounds on their bodies? Probably not much, considering the principal is a prey herself(3). 

I don’t mind accusing you this way, because I don’t expect to be going back to this school. I don’t expect to be going back to any school at all. You will never truly understand the pain you’ve caused me. The pain that all of your faculty has made me go through. Well, I’m done taking your punches. I will either die by your hands or escape your clutches and die by something else. 

I still remember that day. That sick day where you beat me senseless for using my prescribed painkillers for my bone pain. You knew, asshole. You knew I had gone through a poisoning accident a few years back, but all you did was use it as part of your sick mental and physical cruelty. You made me drink a milkshake filled with cigarette ashes and then pretended you were giving me an incentive for being so well-behaved.

I will never forget the way you used my name either, my number one reason for changing it. You enjoyed how awkward you made me feel. You said my name in such a way that made me shiver. It made me so afraid to hear my name come out of your mouth, because that only meant bad things were about to happen to me. You took advantage of my previous forays with the school system. I get it, I was a bad kid, but so were the teachers. They didn’t give me a chance. They just saw my profile and immediately they treated me so horribly. I was forever destined to be the problem fox, the one no one wanted to associate with. How do you think that was gonna help me? If scum is still treated as scum, it will know nothing else. You don’t want to reform me. You just want to fear me. And boy, I bet it’s so easy to fight your fears if it is against a kid that is only about 1/5th of your size. You relish in the fact that you will always be stronger against a small fennec fox. Your crazy power-trip fantasies come alive when you destroy the life of a powerless predator whose only crime was to be born.

I know so much about you, Mr. Woolson. Enough evidence too, for the cops to bust you and leave you in prison for eternity. But I don’t think that’s enough punishment for you. Not at all. Not so much because of what you did to me, but what you did to her. 

Her name was Milla. Milla Vix(4). She was the only person in this terrible school that treated me well. Her and my other friend. Milla and I did everything together. We did our homework, played pranks on the teachers, even got in close calls with the law. We were tight, and we would have done anything for the other. We loved each other. 

Do you know what love is, Mr. Woolson? Frankly I don't think you do. Love is not something that crosses your mind most of the time. Now hate…hate is a word you so adore. There's nothing you hate more than teaching us predators, nothing you hate more than watching us live normal lives, nothing you hate more than seeing us alive. 

The day it happened went by pretty normal, as far as I could tell. I hadn't seen Milla around, though, which was strange. She usually called me whenever she wanted to skip school. It was one of the activities we enjoyed doing. Our form of escape and control. But today, I saw nothing from her. I knew she couldn't be home; she hates her home. Her mother, well, she isn't exactly a role model, and Milla would always find every excuse to be away from her. I helped her out most times, even letting her sleep in my father's van whenever he wasn't around. So, not seeing her at school, it brought all kinds of alarms into my head. 

It was 3pm. Everyone was ready to leave, but I stayed behind. I knew she had you for her last period, so I went to check. Your door was locked, as it usually is. But I knew you were there. I could smell your rotten stench in the air. I could also hear another voice inside, but they weren't speaking. They were just whimpers, moans, all the like. Someone was in there, suffering. I feared the worst. 

You probably know the whole story. After all, you probably remember this interaction. Instead of bolting through the door like I should have, my own fear made me stop. I knocked instead. I think that was the worst decision I've ever made in my life. It took no more than 2 minutes for you to open the door, and there you were, looking as innocent as you could but knowing you were guilty of something. I knew you were guilty. I could smell it in you. The fear, the excitement. You told me if I needed something from you, but my mind came up with nothing. I did not want to go inside that room. My instincts told me so. Not even as I heard the soft sounds of claws scratching a surface. 

They were quick, hurried, and constant. The sounds did not stop, and I couldn't focus on anything else. I should've asked you what that was. There's many things I should've done that day that I didn't. And I will forever hate myself for that. That's my second reason for abandoning my name. The old me wasn't brave enough to act. The old me was a goddamn coward, and that cost him dearly. 

Milla was found two days later, dumped into a trashcan on the other side of Sahara Square. I was able to look at the police records, and found many interesting things. She had been strangled by what looked like hooves, she had been bitten and beaten all throughout her body, but the most damning evidence of all, were her claws. Bloodied, all of them. Some of them were mere inches from coming off her fingers. I knew the scratching sound I heard wasn't a coincidence. You killed her. You destroyed the life of someone dear to me, and I wasn't going to be a coward anymore. So, I got to work. 

Ever since I was in your class after that day, I paid no attention to your lectures. Whenever I could, I inspected the room for clues. Soon enough, I noticed one of your cabinets was gone. I looked inside every other surface, and none of them had any sort of claw marks. I knew you had done something with it. 

I went back to the crime scene and rummaged through the trash, but found nothing either. You were smart enough to dump it somewhere separate from her. It made my job harder, but I wasn't giving up. I looked for months across the entire district for the most inconspicuous places to dump a cabinet. The ports in the district are highly frequented, so you couldn't have dumped it into the ocean either. All of those months of searching, and nothing. It wasn't long before I figured that maybe you weren't that smart. So I checked the storage room at the school, and lo and behold, there it was. It was one of the first items in the pile. You didn't even bother to try to hide it. 

I opened the small cabinet, and there they were. Blood and scratch marks, and an instant punch of her scent. That was when I cried for the first time since her death. I also cried with happiness. I had found you, fucker. And you were gonna go down. I took a lot of pictures of the cabinet with my phone, and collected a sample of the blood with a Q-tip, saving it in a Ziploc bag. 

If I were to get you arrested, I would send that evidence to the police. Don't worry, I still will, but I need to have my fun. I need to cause you pain, just like you have caused me. I’ve spent weeks planning this, to finally have my just desserts, and today is the day. I know your schedule. You read and grade all of your essays at lunchtime, and there’s no one else in the halls by then, so it’s easy for a small fox like me to sneak away and go back inside. As soon as you finish this, a knock will be waiting outside your door, and I will greet you with Milla’s bat in your face. I feel it’s fitting to use something she owns to whack your brains out. I’ve sealed the windows shut, and have made contingency plans to keep you inside that room until I am able to get there, so don’t worry, Mr. Woolson, I’ve saved you the trouble of walking your fat ass away from your chair.

Now, you’re probably not wondering what was up with the title of my “essay” but I will tell you anyway, because why not? The concept of stars is hypocritical. People have these made-up fantasies about those floating light objects in the night sky as something graceful, powerful. Something to attribute positive things to. You did a good thing in kindergarten? You get a star. You become famous in a sport? You’re a star, etc. But when I found out those objects of light were just planets that had been dead for thousands of years, that’s when the irony of it all hit me. They are just a farce. A faint attempt of an object in space to be noticed, to be looked at in death. An explosive end of something that no one knows the beginning of. 

I’m a star. No one is interested in my beginning. Oh, but I bet they will be interested on my end. It will certainly make for a great story. But I’ve accepted that. If I have to become a star and have a death that creates a light that travels for thousands of years in order to be noticed, then so be it. I’d rather die covered in light than become a stranger. 

So, Mr. Woolson, there’s only one last thing, and this whole issue will be over quite soon.(5)

Open the door.

[LETTER ENDS]

OFFICER’S NOTES

1. “Finnick” is the name the suspect has given us. He refuses to give out his real name, and we are finding it difficult to track him in the records department. Either laziness from the staff in Records, or an attempt by the suspect itself to hide his identity altogether. There’s also the slight possibility that they never gave him a birth certificate, as he was born in poverty to parents that are less than cooperative with us. They’ve agreed to cooperate, but they still wouldn’t give out the suspect’s actual name.

2. Charlie Woolson, a name many of us have had the displeasure of knowing. Born 1958, he disguised himself as a psychology teacher to prey on innocent predator children. Unfortunately, the suspect did give us quite immense amounts of evidence against him that finally led to his arrest warrant on the same day of the incident.

3. The suspect points out the principal of the school, Ms. Applewood. We cannot confirm if she had anything to do with Woolson’s many abusive behaviors(and eventual murder), but there is a clear case of ignorance in the entire school, with plenty of the staff pointing out that they always knew something was wrong, and brought it up to Ms. Applewood many times, but completely dismissed it due to her more relaxed demeanor. Plenty of teachers also let us know that she wasn’t at all discriminative against predator students. More investigations will be carried out on the school in the coming months.

4. Milla Vix. Female fox. 15 years old when deceased. The victim was found on the other side of the district on a garbage bag along the Riverwalk. Cause of death indicated strangulation with hooves. As the suspect points out in his essay, she had plenty of bite marks, mostly on the anterior side of her body, with the majority of them being in her chest area. Other places of interest include cuts on her legs and arms, as well as a black eye, possibly from being punched by Woolson. The DNA contained in the Q-tip that the suspect kindly provided matched perfectly with the blood of the victim, all but confirming Mr. Woolson had indeed locked her in it, explaining her broken claws.

5. Many things are elusive about what happened that day, due to the uncooperative nature of the suspect when giving those details. But through our investigation, we determined that there had been quite a struggle between the fox and the ram. Books were knocked out of their shelves, tables were flipped over, and obviously, a lot of blood, most of it belonging to the unfortunate Mr. Woolson. But, in a turn of events that I am sure the suspect did not expect, another fox had heard the ruckus and stopped him from carrying out the kill. This act, committed by 13-year old Nicholas Wilde, undoubtedly changed the course of this investigation. With Woolson relatively alive, we could confirm most of the evidence. He was very cooperative; all he wanted was to ‘get away from that bastard hellish fox’ and so we made true of his wish. This was also a life-altering change for the suspect. Since he did not commit murder and was acting against a public menace, his sentence was fairly reduced to just spending two years in juvie. Plenty of investigation is still ongoing, but we can settle the matter of this ‘Finnick’ to rest, and hope that he recovers from such an event. I really don’t want to have to arrest him again.

[END REPORT]