Work Text:
"Excuse me! Nicholas Wilde, reporter!"
Nick has yelled those words more times in his life than he'd care to admit, and he's yelling them again, this time at the newly elected mayor of Zootopia. Lionheart scans the crowd and his eyes linger on Nick. Occupational hazard of bearing an eye-catching coat of red fur, Nick knows, and it's why he got this assignment. He tends to get picked for questions simply because he stands out from the crowd. And this is a hard crowd to stand out from, what with journalists from just about every major news outlet packed into the square.
"Yes, fox on the left," says Lionheart, pointing to Nick.
"I'm here for the Sun. What do you have to say to the mammals that are insisting that the mammal inclusion initiative is simply denying opportunities to those that deserve it while offering them to less qualified individuals?"
He's curious to hear what the mayor has to say to this question. Nick personally thinks it's bullshit, but he's not immune to wanting to watch a powerful man squirm. Plus, that's the question he was told to ask. He didn't get to where he is in his career by going rogue or protecting anyone's feelings.
Mayor Lionheart clears his throat, and Nick instinctively checks to make sure that the red light on his recorder is still on.
"Zootopia is a great city," the mayor begins, and Nick wants to roll his eyes. Sure, it's real great. "However, it has a dark past, specifically in the cases of smaller mammals. The mammal inclusion initiative isn't an exclusionary act; it's one that will ensure that all members of are society are given an equal chance when it comes to employment and service. If anyone wants to challenge that, I'd suggest that they peruse the policy before making their complaints."
Nick jots down a few notes, but he doesn't need them. It's a boring, safe answer given by a boring, safe mayor. He doesn't know what else he expected.
*
"Wilde!" Johnson, his boss, appears next to Nick's cubicle with a USB stick. Nick has seen this before, and he unconsciously rubs his hands together. Big story big story big story. "There's a plague of missing mammal cases taking over the city. Info on here. Check it out and get me a story by day after tomorrow."
"You got it," Nick says, even though he wants to groan at the deadline. "Any particular spin?"
Johnson, a cougar that has been pulled over for more than one "random" inspection, shrugs.
"If it turns out that the ZPD is dropping the ball on the investigation, I wouldn't be mad about it," he says, and Nick gives a mock salute.
"You got it, boss."
*
In a twist of heart-tugging fate, one of the missing mammals is a guy from the D and D group Nick sometimes attends. He's always liked Emmett Otterton, so making the call to Olivia is a miserable experience. He does find out that they have a membership to "Mystic Springs Oasis," so he heads over to interview the guy working the front desk...
And runs straight into a cop.
He ducks his head, trying to avoid her gaze even though his curiosity is definitely piqued by the fact that she's a rabbit, but she stops him. Her eyes are locked in on his notebook and he wishes he'd thought to stow it away before heading inside.
"Hey! Are you a member of the press?"
He thinks about lying and saying he's a member of the club, but the chances of that going well aren't very high and he needs to do well on this story. Plus, maybe if the cop lets him tag along he'll get some good stuff for the "ZPD negligence" angle.
"Yes," he admits. "I'm a friend of Emmett's, and--"
"Oh!" Her expression changes. "Did you come here often with him?"
Nick is sorely tempted to say yes, if only to laugh at what is guaranteed to be a horrified expression, but then he thinks about Emmett, about the strangely raspy quality of his laugh and the way he lights up when they're getting into a boss fight, and all the lightheartedness flows out of him.
"No," he says, and tries to rally himself, sending her a wink. "It was a him and his wife thing."
"Well, that's sweet." He raises his eyebrows and it only takes her a second to get it. "Oh. Uh... well, whatever floats your boat, I guess."
"I guess so," Nick echoes, amused and slightly impressed. There's not much of an accent in her softspoken words, but he can detect a bit of a Bunnyburrow twang. He wouldn't have expected a backwater bunny to be openminded about a naturalist club, but whatever.
The yak at the front desk, who has been meditatively oming, opens his eyes and jumps in surprise at the sight of them. Nick tries not to snort.
"Oh! What can I do with you two?"
"I sincerely hope you meant for, and I'm with the Zootopia Sun. Have you seen this mammal recently?"
Nick tugs a photo of Emmett out of his pocket and holds it up for the yak's inspection, ignoring the officer's sputtered protests about how she's an officer and this is an investigation. The yak--Yax, if the name tag on the desk is to be believed--leans down, bringing a halo of flies with him. Nick tries not to wince.
"Emmett? Of course I've seen him."
"Then--"
"You'd better talk with his yoga instructor," Yax says, heading for the edge of the counter. "Nangi's on the other side of the pleasure pool."
"What is--oh my sweet gourd you are naked." The rabbit has both paws over her face, and Nick doesn't bother trying to muffle his laugh. So she wasn't as openminded as he thought.
"Don't worry, Carrots," he says, following Yax's unclothed backside with a bravado put on for her benefit. "You get used to it."
"I don't think so," she hisses, but to her credit she tags along, with minimal cringing from the many, many naked mammals lounging around in the sunlight.
Nangi is leading a yoga class, bare and brazen. Nick is morbidly fascinated by the mechanics of it all, though he tries to keep his eyes where a gentlemammal's would be. It's hard because there's so much of Nangi to avoid.
Yax, it turns out, might not be the brightest tool in the kit but he is the sharpest. Nangi is of no help at all, unless it's to offer a channel for Yax to focus his memory through. Nick and Judy's pencils fly the entire time he's talking, rattling off things like Emmett's outfit, the time he left, and the damn license plate number of the car he left in.
"Well," says Nick as they exit the club, "that was fun. Good luck, bunny."
"It's Officer Hopps," she snaps, "and where on earth are you going? Aren't you going to follow this through?"
"Of course I am," Nick returns, frankly a little insulted, "but I'm doing it on my own. I'm press, Hopps, in case you forgot. The fuzz and us don't really mix."
"Don't you care about Emmett?" she asks, effectively bowling him over emotionally. "Don't you want to find him? You and I both know that it'll be quicker if we work together."
"Dammit," Nick mutters, and then he sighs. "All right. Lead the way, Fluff."
"It's Hopps," she insists, but she opens the door of--
"Is that a meter maid vehi--oof."
The elbow in his stomach shuts him up, and he climbs in, off-kilter from the day... and oddly refreshed by the dynamic presence next to him.