She should say more. By the way, thank you for saving my career, my dream, and only chance to prove myself, or the like, but she was too stunned by the very fact that he had stepped in and saved her like that to say much of anything. It was the very last thing she would have expected. She thought he hated her. And why wouldn't he? He'd basically been her prisoner for the past two days. The conviction never bothered her – he was a lowlife jerk, she didn't care what he thought of her as long as he got her the information she needed. She hated him just as much, so they were even! But the sleazy hustler she'd met her first day on the job would not have stood up for her like that. The same fox couldn't possibly be so pathetic and so heroic.
The difference between the fox she met three days ago and the one she met tonight only grew more puzzling when he told her his story. He'd never shown any symptoms of being in that type of pain – a pain she understood all too well, it being so similar to a haunting memory of her own. The way he told her was even stranger, not as if he was defending his attitude around her but as if he was apologizing, like he hoped it would help her understand how he'd acted when they'd first met and why he'd kept giving her such a hard time, that he didn't enjoy it any more than she did and was sorry to have hurt her but it was too late to try to be any different; the world would never see him as anything more – it was hopeless.
She tried to contradict him, but how could she make a convincing argument when, until a few moments ago, she'd been just as afraid of him as everyone else? During training, she'd always been confident she knew how to spot clues, read signs, and tell when someone was hiding something. How could she have been so wrong about him? She didn't know whether to feel more ashamed or pleased by the discovery of this other side to him.
It took her brain a while to reconcile the two versions of Nick Wilde. How he'd just confided in her, what he did back there... There was something very sweet about it. Almost kind. Even though he'd been nothing but mean and rude to her in the beginning. He'd always been an arrogant jerk around her. Now he seems dear, Judy thought in dismay. Even... so unsure. He was a good actor, but she was supposed to be a good investigator. I wonder why I didn't see it there before.
She didn't know it at the time, but Nick was just as stunned by the change in her. He'd half expected she'd hate him interfering like that, that her next words to him would be, "I don't need help from some fox! I can take care of myself! Next time, mind your own business!" When she not only acted grateful but dropped the defensive attitude she'd always had around him, he didn't know what to make of it. Almost all prey saw predators as the enemy and especially didn't trust foxes. He'd gotten used to it by now – he couldn't remember how many years ago he'd stopped expecting that he would ever meet prey who wasn't afraid of him, let alone someone who would think there could be anything good in a fox. She was no different; he'd already seen that for himself. So why, when he saw she was in trouble, was he unable to resist speaking up for her? Why did she let him? Especially when she clearly hated pity just as much as he did.
Seeing her drop her guard must have been what made him break his cardinal rule and drop his own guard. He couldn't explain what made him open up to her except that he felt he owed her an explanation for why he'd treated her the way he had. It was only fair she knew the reason. She probably wouldn't believe him anyway. A bunch of prey ganging up on a predator? Hah, when did that happen? But not only did she fully believe him, she actually seemed to care. He must be mistaken there. She'd only known him a few days – why would she care what he'd been through? They weren't friends – she'd been forced into working with him as much as he'd been forced into working with her. Maybe if they hadn't been a rabbit and a fox, they could at least learn not to mistrust or disrespect one another, but as it was, even that was impossible for the two of them.
Still, he thought he saw her glance his way, not with fear, but with sympathy and admiration. She even reached out to him – something no prey had ever willingly done before! – and when they touched, she didn't shudder. Could she actually...? Nick pushed the ridiculous idea away before it could fully form. Nah, it can't be, he warned himself. Just ignore it. He tried to. He tried to shrug it off, to look away from her, to change the subject, but no matter how nonchalant he acted, he couldn't help but notice she still seemed concerned about him and, even stranger, wanted him to know it.
He knew it was foolish to hope what he was hoping... But then, she's never looked at me that way before.