Nick Wilde wasn't exactly twelve, he was twelve and a half when school was starting up again. Walking his way down the sidewalk to Burrowsburg Middle School, he noticed the same stand right outside the school zone. To him, it looked like the remnants of a failed lemonade stand. From the repainted signs to the 20 year old fennec running it; for all Nick knew, this guy was the failed lemonade owner. The stand was nothing new, having seen a similar setup the previous school year, but he never paid much attention to the setup since he never had enough money in his pocket to pay for whatever it was.

This time, he had at least some money in his pocket. A few quarters would be enough, he thought, and he surveyed the selection. Selection, however, was a loose term. Every frozen treat was the same red flavor. Strawberry? Cherry? It wouldn't matter much, but looking up and the hanging sign and down at the brown box, nowhere among the text were there any numbers. The one question he needed to know and nothing gave him and answer.

He had to gain the answer himself, "Excuse me, sir."

"Finnick," the cousin of kin responded, his tone harsher than the young student was used to. This 'businessman' kept calm on his physical stature.

Nick began to raise his paw, as if to ask about the missing nametag, but he thought better and asked his intended question, "So Finnick, how much are these pawsicles any-"

"Freeze Pawps," he corrected in disdain, pointing up at the banner board on the stand. The words had been bunched up, but at least in clear, legible writing, "and it'll be two bucks kid."

Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out all the change he had: six quarters. He tried looking into his backpack for spare change, but only found three nickels and two pennies. Falling a few cents short, he broke the news to the owner of the stand, "I can't pay it now, but I could get a few cents more when I get out at three."

The point almost made the fennec fumble off of his stepping stool. Holding his paw to his head, Finnick's ears fell as if trying to block what it already heard, "Kid,"

"Nick. But I do have class in ten minutes, so you know."

"Whoever you are, why should I return then anyway?"

Not wanting to offend, the interested party inquired about his practices, "Why do you come in the morning anyway?"

"You kids are on your way to school, something to have as an added snack before classes start."

While understanding his view, Nick needed to explain his point of view, "but I think it would be better at the end of the day. If it's been a long day, they'll want a good treat before heading home. Besides, come summer, it'd be good after long, humid days."

"I'd love to, but I could only pass by around then. I have another…" not wanting to explain too much of his questionable actions, he let the news flow easy to the young child, "...thing to get to. Wouldn't be able to pass by again until at least an hour later."

Sly grin growing, with a stronger art to his con, Nick proposed an agreement to his potential companion, "how many do you have left to sell in your freezer?"

"Counting the one you might get, two hundred Freeze Pawps."

"That's quite a lot."

"Made a fresh-ish bunch this week, but I'm lucky to sell fifty in a week."

"How about you drop off everything after I get out of school for the day. I'll sell everything and we'll split what we sell 50/50."

"Come again?!" The proposal jolted the quick cronie to at least attempt to regain his senses. Looking at his own watch, it would have been five more minutes before Nick's classes would start, and a meeting of his own at the same time would have meant he needed to wrap up any potential deal.

"I'll even cover half of the expenses for it if it puts your mind at ease."

In a quick haste to sort things out, Finnick ushered him away, "Nick, go get your education first. Meet me here by three."

The smile in return met the friend, "Ms. Sparrow's class gets out right at the bell, but I'll be there as soon as I can," and with that, Nick ran toward the school trying to not be late for the third straight school day of the year's start.

Nick continued the story to his carside companion when Chief Bogo came in over the intercom, "Hopps. Wilde. Your shift's done now, time to turn in for the day."

"Yes, Sir," Judy pridefully responded. Their first day on the job was rather slow. Aside from the speeding ring run by Flash and the other sloths, the day was not as packed with other on-call cases. To pass the time, Nick recounted his previous days as the head of the semi-legitimate Pawsicle stand. Pulling away from the parking lot, the lapine leader apologized for her own leader, "Sorry for the interuption to your story."

"Actually for the better," Nick responded, trying to finish off the last drop of his empty coffee cup, "Actually gives me a chance to skip ahead to the end of the day unless you want to hear what happened to me in Biology."

"I've had enough of health class, thanks though."

"Fair enough. But guess how many I sold on the first day."

Judy took a few moments to ponder as she rolled to a red light, but as she approached, the light turned green and all her pistons rolled on, "two hundred?"

Or so she thought, "One ninety-nine. I used my share of the profits to pay for the last one."

"That's so cute. And that must have been the first of the three hundred and sixty-five days you two worked until you handed the business back to Finnick."

"Three hundred sixty-four," the fox corrected, his tone keeping the suave charm, yet with sincerity creeping in, "I didn't correct your math all those days ago because we probably earned at least one and a half million since that time, but aside from not being exactly 20 years, I kept one day aside through all those days."

"Your birthday?"

Giving a quick chuckle, the fox amended the thought, "not that, but it is a personal day nonetheless. Christmas Day, actually."

At first, Judy smiled in understanding, parking the police car back in the lot. After unbuckling and hopping down from the front seats, a confused thought crossed her mind. Her left ear drooped, as if her right ear was the stronger connection to comprehension, "so why is that holiday the one you take off?"

Nick tossed the cup behind him, but he realized he had to set an example at his present role, and caught it before it fell on the sidewalk. Bumbling from his miscue, he needed to clarify before finishing his story on the walk home, "I didn't exactly take it off, so to say, but it wasn't a day I took off from year one."

Two years had passed by and neither Nick nor Finnick missed a day of collaboration. Through December of Nick's fourteenth year of life, well over 800 days went by, every day maxing out on their limited supply of Pawsicles; Nick's name for these frozen treats helping max out the sales each day. The winter break was always tough for the two of them. The weather wasn't too much of the reason, fresh supplies meant demand always remained high. Getting the supply to the masses proved the biggest trouble. Fortunately, both of them kept tabs on which places and events would result in the most customers. It would usually be movie theaters and gas stations, but most times they'd be kicked out after a day or two of attempted business.

This year, they planned out their rotation. Each would take their 100-pop share and split into different locations. If one would be kicked out of the shopping mall one day, the other would take the spot the next day. After Christmas Eve's missions, Nick briefed Finnick of his situation, "Got all of mine sold outside Carpitol Records, but I think the head of the place is suspicious of me, so it might be good to switch it up."

"Glad you got yours out, kid. The hospital had an event, and I was canned before I sold half of them."

"Did you try to sell them?" Despite his smaller size, Nick could always tell when Finnick's expression towered above even the stare of his parents, "Sorry, I'm just asking if I'd have any luck going there tonight."

His companion grabbed the last bunch of his pawsicles, turning to Nick with an initial push toward him, however, turning away quickly to reconsider, "The movie theater hasn't caught onto me yet. I'll try to get all of them out before the 8pm showing of 'Ameritopia'," and without much fanfare, the fennec fled.

For a few moments, Nick sat on the bench to puzzle his own thoughts together. The red fox would do better to wait until tomorrow to implement the scam, but before he could set the reminder on his phone, he dropped his paws down as if to click together a puzzle. He'd spent many weeks watching movies at the theater, every summer at the beach, and of course nine months in a given year at school. Like every fur of his fiber, he knew these locations, but he had not been in the hospital since he was born. Suffice to say his memories didn't work back then. Zootopia's hospital was about a five minute walk in a reverse direction to his house, but a quick text to his mother about an added walk would be enough.

Upon arriving at the hospital, three tiers of desk attendants met the expansive doorway. Considering he was smaller than an elephant and larger than a mouse, he sought the middle attendant, an intriguing tiger tapping away at the computer, trying to assign tasks and organize files. Her name tag only listed her as an intern, but her work ethic indicating she was a week away from a full time position.

Not wanting to interrupt, Nick surveyed the tag to make sure he sounded as sincere as he could be, "Excuse me miss… Melody."

"And... save," the attendant tacked away at the last few keys before answering the newcomer, "How can I help you?"

"Two quick questions. What's your policy on solicitation of purchases?" A look of complete bewilderment pressed across Melody, and only a handed file from a few canine nurses pulled her to sanity. Nick took the chance to clarify, "I mean would I be able to sell stuff here?"

Understanding now, she took the effort to politely scold his possible intentions, "unless you're a prodigy with a possible life-saving medication, it's sort of not allowed. Had to kick out a fennec fox for trying to sell frozen pops to the patrons."

So he was here earlier, he took note, but there's no way I can admit it in this situation. His next best action was to twist the conversation to his favor, "Was he about ye-high, angry temper, finicky?"

"You know the guy?"

"Only because I saw him on my way to Burrowsburg Middle School."

"You go there?" She chimed with a leveled chirp, "I don't meet nearly enough from the area. Probably because they end up going to Gazebo Jr. High."

"Hehe, probably, all the smart ones go there. You remember a kid by the name of Cobalt Willows?"

"It sounds familiar," she held one paw to her chin while the other searched through files, both physical and digital, "but I was last there about five years ago."

"No worries if you don't, he was in my grade, but he golfs like a champ. Do you know what his best round was?"

"204."

Nick chuckled a bit before trying to reconnect the attendant to reality, "I said the best round, not the worst."

"My apologies," Melody amended, "I should've said he was in room 204."

The information hit him more than he'd admit to, and he leaned upon the desk to the side as an older wolf asked the attendant another question. Nick maintained eye contact with all the seasonal decorations, but the turtle doves upon the hospital's tree held his attention the longest. Both of them were creating a heart through their combined wing stretches. Inside the heart read a small message, but he could only read "the smallest" before Melody called out to the zoned-out fox.

"Excuse me mister..."

"Wilde, Nick Wilde," he kept his tone as level as possible, but cuteness of others can cause a flirtatious inflection.

"Mr. Wilde. That was Cobalt's mom that went by. I don't think she'd mind any guests for him if you wanted to go meet him in his room."

"I'll go if I have permission, thank you, Melody. I'll try not to visit too often."

"Please don't make an effort to come here, but I hope to see you again," and she returned a brief wave before the fox set off, after which she continued her necessary work.

The two friends sat a while longer after finishing their quick Badger King meals, Judy with some fries and an iced coffee, and Nick completing the last chunk of his tater tots. Pondering which aspect to present next, he toyed with his empty cup, tilting it as if to almost tip its contents over, yet not flipping it over.

"Why was your friend in the hospital?" Judy asked, sipping near the end of her drink.

"Broken legs. Listening in from just outside, his mother said it had something to do with a stupid stunt he tried doing out of his third story building. I didn't catch much of what either said."

Spitting her contents back into the cup, she almost expressed indignant, "You said he was your best friend, and yet you didn't care for him?"

"I said he was a good friend, best is a relative term, Carrots. Secondly, I never said who was responsible for my day away from sales."

"Who?"

Taking the lowered tone as a welcoming gesture, however emotionally quick it was coming from the bunny, he continued onward, "Cobalt had so many get well cards by his bedside, and curiosity got the better of me when I looked in the room across, 205. She may have been a year or two younger than me, but the central light was the only bright spot in her room. Door shut, I figured I'd open it and see what she had to say."

As the door creaked open, the young fox in the bed turned her attention to the new opening. She had so many added attachments to her and a constant beeping to make sure it stayed in line. As weak as she had been, she was still able to give a strengthened response, "why are you here?"

Nick was too deep into whatever his mind was playing with, so he gave the best answer his nervous mind could offer, "I'm curious by the simple things, I was visiting a friend of mine and couldn't help but notice your room."

"I appreciate your company, but I had to be placed in here because of Rabies," Nick took an instinctive step back, but he felt a strong sense of pity as the young girl finished up, "It's gone away by now, but I don't have too many who come back and visit until the nurses certify that."

Extending a warm paw, the hustler slowed his pace to stand with her, "I'm Nick."

While the girl was too weak-spirited to return the handshake, she gave a soft smile as compensation, "Cassidy. How long will you be staying?"

Before having the chance to respond with his heart, there was a sharp double-ding, and Nick crept into his pocket realizing his phone was the only possible noisemaker that wasn't constant. His mother texted him, and the message was a motherly scolding, That must be a long path back home. "I'll be back tomorrow, I should be heading back home now."

"On Christmas?"

"I didn't say in the morning, I'll return in the afternoon, evening at the latest."

No other words were exchanged, but none needed to. Cassidy mustered the internal strength to wave back, even if her wrist lay on her body as she did so. Nick returned the move as he closed the door. He wandered back, and he peered into the other rooms as he wandered over to the stairs. A fair number of the rooms housed children; be it lions, sheep, or giraffes; some with cards abound and some with a sprinkled few. But looking into the window of a teenaged fennec fox made Nick remember his mission, to investigate who to sell the pawsicles to. Knowing this would be his next step in his business made his heart sink faster than he could rush down the stairs.

As he entered the main lobby, he passed by the christmas tree once more, taking a closer look into the turtle dove ornament, "the smallest acts make the largest difference," he read, "I just know you're tryin' to tell me something, but I hope Finnick understands."

Nick wouldn't let the possibility happen. The next afternoon, when the two met together to organize their plans, Finnick mapped out the day, "Okay buddy, if you've got the hospital, I can take the church right before the christmas feast."

"I don't have any obligations for the evening," Nick said, pulling out his own wallet, taking out a strong amount of cash, "so how about I put my funds toward your share and handle it all myself?"

Taken aback by the offer, Finnick blinked in quick succession, but the offer still stood before him. Wanting to make sure he heard correctly, he asked a secondary question, "Would we still need to meet again to organize the fixed costs?"

He pulled a little more, and handed it to Finnick, explaining the matter as smooth as fresh pavement, "I have a certain place in mind for all of these."

The fennec smiled, but some confusion rose in his eyes. Neither one had taken days off, even previous Christmases, and to be free from such obligations almost made him tear up. He kept his composure, but he did find the gumption to hug his business partner, "Maybe I'll go somewhere useful for once. I'll tell you how it goes, and you do the same, Wilde."

"Was 200 enough?" Judy had to know the finale of the story even though they arrived at the door housing her apartment complex. She stat on the bottom stairs as her friend ended his compelling adventure.

"117 children, 80 staff available, and a few spare doubles."

"Guess you had one of the spares?"

"Of course. I gave one of them to Cobalt. Had to give one to a friend of mine," his mind trailed off a bit as he recalled, "and I ended up giving her the last one."

The lower emotional state caught on with his current day friend, "Cassidy?"

A smile rose in him as his memories swarmed in, "Enjoyed it more than any of the others I gave them away to. Bet it had to do with the previous night, but I'm surprised I never met her after that."

"So… it's because of her you kept it going all these years? That one day donating them rather than selling them."

"Part of me was hoping to see her again, but part of me wanted to ensure that I had a reason beyond money to keep the job going."

Nick then sat next to Judy as she reviewed the message of the story, "but that raises a few more questions. Not any bad ones, but why wouldn't you just do it more often? Like every month or something."

Through all his remaining might, he withheld his snarky reply and rustled his companion's ears, "well, if I did that, it wouldn't be three hundred sixty-four days, now would it? Also, your math would have been off by a few hundred thousand dollars, if my 'dumb fox' math is right."