A/N: This story stems from a personal interest in seeing how the city of Zootopia would develop after the events depicted in the film. It may seem a little slow-burn at times, but I hope you'll see the reasons for that as the story grows. I'll do my best to keep it updated with new chapters.
Also, due to the setting of the story, SPOILERS are likely (though, at this point, maybe you should go see the movie!)
Please feel free to read and review - I appreciate good feedback!
That said, please enjoy Run. ~ Best, Euphonemes
Run
"It's printed on linen? Well, isn't that just a shade too fancy. Sorry, can't go."
The invitation made a perceptible thump as it landed back onto the steel desk. Imprinted on the finest linen from the local stationery shop were the details for a party: names, addresses, a mouthwatering menu, an RSVP process, all written in large and fancy silver-inked calligraphy, the swooping letters glittering in the sunbeams filtering down through skylights. No expense had been spared to inform Officers Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde that their presences were requested at this grand event.
Her long gray ears drooped as her partner's vulpine paws relinquished the linen surprise that had appeared in the daily stack of mail scattered across their shared desk. In a heartbeat, Judy unleashed an adamant squeal that snaked through the aisles between rows of identical desks that made up this floor of the Zootopia Police Department's headquarters. Her tirade steamed ahead with usual speed. "Why not! The Ottertons were kind enough to invite us — they're such a nice family — so we have to go!"
The fellow officers' heads whipping toward the source of the commotion did not bother Officer Hopps. Her stalwart conviction, the tireless one and the same that had secured this job for her, directed her focus solely to Nick, invariably calm and collected. His typical snide grin flashed hints of sharpened canine teeth. He slouched against the desk's leg, the same devil-may-care attitude that had constantly frustrated her ever since she had unexpectedly met him in a popsicle shop. Though he may have traded in the dull and dingy green shirt for an iron-pressed ZPD uniform (complete with mirror-finished badge), he remained Judy's foil, as he had since his days of pawpsicle scamming.
She did not need him to say anything. His smirk gave it away. "Oh, I hate it when you do that!"
The knowing chuckle escaped his grin. "And yet, you fall for it every time. Bit of a strange reason to have a party, though, don't'cha think?"
When Mr. Otterton had disappeared, and his wife had broken down outside Chief Bogo's door, Judy had done everything possible to reunite their family. And she had accomplished it — with some help, naturally. A year had passed since then. The date for the party would be the day Mr. Otterton had first vanished to be swept up in the city-wide conspiracy that had rattled Zootopia to its core. Perhaps Nick was right: it was an odd anniversary to celebrate.
Nonetheless, the invitation sat, waiting to be marked and returned with their replies. Nick never backed down from this type of soiree, especially with the promise of something delectable — and free — awaiting his arrival. And Judy would certainly never disappoint the Ottertons. She motioned for Nick to take care of the invitation: a check mark next to "Attending" and a fresh stamp to send it back to their gracious hosts. His audible groan, almost petulant, was cut short when her large shimmering eyes, irises hinting of lavender, let loose a terrific glare.
"As you command," he blabbed with a mockingly graceful bow. She huffed as Nick swept up the invitation and trundled toward the post office drop box clear across the room. The desk chair squeaked as she lithely leaped into the comfortable cushion. Between colorful envelopes stuffed with junk mail were solitary forms, all half-completed by a Nick who detested the daily rounds of paperwork. One report for each crime, that was the plan...though these days, what qualified as a crime had been stretched to a ridiculous extent. Regardless, work needed to be done. Forms on three jaywalkers and a double-parked car were soon at the mercy of her pen.
Sensitive ears nabbed the sounds of the municipal police station in action as she filled in the long-winded paragraphs her partner had left blank. The cacophony of a hundred separately-set ringtones was joined by the shouts of officers in the middle of subduing a rowdy petty theft suspect, the hushed whispers of partners planning their after-work activities, the scribbles of writing instruments and the clacking of keyboards. Improperly trained ears would go mad listening to this mess. Judy added her own humming to the chorus of another busy day at ZPD as she hustled through form after form.
"Alright," Nick said as he suddenly reappeared next to Judy. Having been lost in the minutiae of a disorderly conduct report, she gasped. "Whoops, my bad there, Hopps. Didn't mean to startle ya…or did I?" The devilish grin again emerged.
Officer Nick Wilde had turned out to be quite the smart move for ZPD. His knowledge, garnered from years of street survival, more than compensated for the lack of paperwork expertise. Together, Nick and Judy had been two parts of a potent and balanced team, dispatched to mop up crime around the districts of Zootopia. They had done so with unequaled efficiency. Promotions that had once taunted them from far away now loomed, to be attained with an unprecedented speed. For Judy, a new title meant little, but she would catch Nick silently salivating at the prospect on the way out of the office before they shuffled off down the road in separate directions.
Nick wheeled over the chair from the adjoining desk and pulled up alongside Judy. The moment his paws touched the steel desktop, she slammed down a stack of forms and wordlessly pointed to them. With a resigned sigh, he began scribbling. "Well, Hopps," he said after laboriously filling in the "Name of Reporting Officer" box, "I'll be curious to see what the turnout at this shindig will be. A week's notice is not much to go on."
In a rare chivalric gesture, Nick had left the driver's seat and opened the car door for her. He had commandeered a police cruiser for the evening's festivities. Hopefully, no one would be terribly upset at their borrowing the newest and shiniest model. Before he had exited, a quick honk from the horn had signaled his curbside arrival, and Judy had bounded out the apartment lobby in a few steps.
She giggled as she daintily slipped into the passenger seat and smoothed out the ruffles forming in her gossamer evening gown while Nick shut the door behind her. The obsidian fabric strikingly complemented her coat of gray fur. Once Nick had started the car and pulled back into traffic, she caught his eyes as they sidled over to her seat.
"Watch the road, Mister Wilde."
He acquiesced with an amused grunt. The week had simply vanished. Truant kids and moving violations, with all their accompanying grueling paperwork, had devoured one workday after another. Whether completed by pen or by keyboard, forms had flown from inbox to outbox, leaving behind parting gifts of cramps that had nearly incapacitated her forelimbs. The ceaseless exasperated breaths and noisy puttering of her more deskwork-averse partner had not abated the pain.
Nick cleared his throat. She turned and listened. "We all missed you today at our all-team meeting."
She cracked a sheepish smirk as her eyes found the window once more. Streetlights flickered as they pulled onto a major road. "I know, I didn't wanna sneak out." An absentminded paw rolled around a wrinkle of the dress's sheer fabric. She whipped back to Nick and planted a big grin on her face. "But I had to go pick up this dress! What do you think?"
His chuckle made his amusement evident. "Hopps, it was totally worth skipping out on work for. You look absolutely ravishing."
"Hmph. What a charmer." Her look of derision belied the warm glow materializing in her belly. She shuffled her oblong feet and listened to the folds of the dress swish in the cabin. Judy knew the drive would not be long since she had looked up their route (and three alternate ones) beforehand. She was content to lean back and savor the ride.
Yet, even as the roads passed, curiosity nagged. "So what happened at this meeting?"
Nick clicked his tongue. "Eh, nothing special. Pinch hitter Francine joined the precinct's softball team, so they'll crush the fire department next week. They're slashing overtime pay — all the more reason to skip out. And then there was some new system they're installing in the phone lines."
"A new system?"
"Yeah, guess there's been some push for a…what'd Bogo call it, a transparency initiative, that's it. Gonna record all incoming calls to the ZPD emergency hotline and then publish them online for public review."
"Oh. That sounds…interesting…but what if people don't want anyone to know they called? Or what if it's something super-secret?" Her paws were buzzing in her lap as caveats rapidly formed in her agile mind.
Nick slowed the car, the engine purring in harmony with the others in the sparse traffic. Their final turn was approaching. "I don't know, there was something about an algorithm or…look Hopps, just ask Bogo when you're in next. Hmm, won't he be delighted to find out you blew off his important meeting…."
He meant it teasingly, Judy knew, but he was far from incorrect. Judy did not want the wrath of Chief Bogo hanging over her head for long. She swallowed and then squeezed her paws until the car rolled to a stop.
Out the window, she saw a steady stream of visitors pouring into the Otterton residence. It was a modest home, distant enough from the main city to give adequate space for the one-floor ranch, but not the acreage to fit the palatial estates of those who lived out in the far reaches of districts like Tundratown. And tonight, there were sufficient partiers to have them fill the home and spill back out onto the neatly manicured lawn. As gregarious as Judy was, she balked at the crowd's size.
"Well then, looks like they got plenty of RSVPs. C'mon Hopps, let's get in there before all the good stuff is picked clean." Oblivious to Judy's abrupt attack of nerves, Nick exited the car and came round to open her door. Judy just then noticed Nick's choice of attire: a fascinating interpretation of semi-formal. His jacket was nearly a tuxedo, save for the secondhand fabric used in its construction. No tie — she had rather liked the slim striped one with which he had once adorned his neck. The shirt fit loosely, a snappy oxford for whatever creature had owned it before Nick, and it was mostly tucked into the pants that were just a hair long on the inseam. All told, it was maybe a bit too dressy, but otherwise a commendable effort from Nick.
"Eyes on the road, Miss Hopps." The door stood open, and Judy returned to the task at hand. She summoned a sly grin that elicited a chuckle from Nick, and she stepped out. As her feet alighted onto the pavement, an airiness overtook her, and soon, she and Nick cut through the amorphous crowd and swam upstream into the home proper.
Immediately upon entry, Nick broke their tight formation and headed directly for the buffet table. Judy's nose twitched as an especially pungent carrot scent wafted among the throngs of mammals. She tried to follow Nick, but a few partygoers stationed by the front door recognized her. The usual laudations followed forthwith.
"Thank you for your service!"
"You are a blessing to this city, ma'am."
"What you did — oh, I couldn't imagine! You must have been terrified!"
Patterns emerged in these trite adulations. She was always grateful, truly she was. She would fawn over their compliments and leave them smiling. Yet, her highly trained mind never failed to catch the signposts: "thank you," "brave," "true civil servant," "I saw you on TV."
There had been a lot of buzz following the Night Howler Incident, and she had been positioned at its very center. Interviews, appearances, swanky events: everything Judy Hopps hated. A necessary part of the job, she had been told. Fortunately, Nick's wily brain had been invaluable in navigating these brightly-lit studios and dusky mixers. Without his guidance, Judy shuddered to think of what would have tumbled forth from her untrained mouth.
Even now, with the most basic of congratulations, the nervousness she had felt in the car was resurfacing. She flashed a winsome smile a few more times, then excused herself and dove into the party mob. Several more shouts of recognition popped up from various corners in the house, but she ducked and dodged, and cleared the room without engaging in another conversation. She came to rest against the inner wall of the Ottertons' living room, where she fortuitously found her host.
"Oh, Mr. Otterton! How nice to see you again!"
Mr. Otterton looked exactly the same as he did during their last meeting, save for the festive rainbow bowtie festooned around his neck. Wisps of chestnut fur poked out from the sleeves of his sweater as he waved hello to his guest. After a quick adjustment of his spectacles, he was alongside Judy.
"Officer Hopps! Or, ehm, Lieutenant Hopps, or, uh…I'm sorry…."
The laugh was automatic, but it was genuine and amicable. "No, please, Judy is fine."
"Of course, of course," he murmured, clearly appreciative of Judy's assistance. "Well then, Judy, thank you for coming by tonight! It's certainly an honor to have you in our home."
"The honor is mine. You have a lovely house! Is this…where you lived before, or…?"
He tugged on one of his sweater's sleeves, a nervous tic perhaps. "Ah, no, we moved fairly recently. Our family needed more space than we could get in the city proper."
"Naturally!" Judy offered a polite smile, which seemed to set her host at greater ease.
"So...I was going to take a walk and observe, make the sure the party is still in order here. Probably stop by the kitchen, too. The caterers left a special soufflé with a good-sized pitcher of carrot purée…if you'd be interested in joining me, then…."
Her stomach rumbled at the thought. She picked up the bits of the scent from before as more partiers disturbed the air with their raucous movements. "Lead the way!"
Judy and Mr. Otterton ambled along the perimeter and chatted, straining to heave their voices over the din of the partying crowd. They discussed what had changed during the past year and touched briefly on plans for the future. Judy listened with interest, but she kept an eye peeled for her partner, who had yet to surface from his foray into the buffet line.
"I really struggle to believe that it's been a full year since…."
That drew Judy's attention. She stopped, immobilized by a burning question. Mr. Otterton noticed and waited patiently by the entryway to the kitchen.
"Sir, if I may," she began while kicking at the carpeting (made of incredibly soft fabric), "why did you pick today to celebrate? I mean, it's the day a year ago when you were…."
"When I was taken, you mean?" She nodded, and he sighed. Spectacles lifted from the bridge of his nose, and he polished each lens carefully with the edge of his sweater. "Because, Judy, it's the day everything in my life changed."
He replaced his spectacles and blinked a few times as Judy stayed still. "Before I was taken, I did not…appreciate, truly and meaningfully appreciate, everything I had. My wife, I've always loved her dearly, but I expected, always, to come home to her. And to hold my kids as they ran up to the door. When that was suddenly no longer a certainty, it…well, it changed my whole perspective. My outlook on everything. Problems at work or the little nagging complaints that stick with you…in a flash, none of it mattered. All I wanted was to come home and be with my family.
"So today, this day, is to remind me of just how important it is to cherish the ones in our lives. And I'm happy to share in this with all of my friends…and some of their friends, too, it seems. I don't recall sending out that many invitations…."
Judy was awestruck. Mr. Otterton, unassuming Mr. Otterton, had completely floored her. He stood tall in the entryway, beaming with a joy that must have been fastidiously collected every day this past year, only to burst forth on this one wonderful night in a celebration with friends and family. A pang of nostalgia for Bunnyburrow manifested for a moment within Judy, but she quickly cleared it out and joined Mr. Otterton in his revelry.
"Thank you for sharing that with me, sir."
"And thank you for sharing this night with me, Judy. Now, what say we dig into this meal, yes?"
Seven massive glasses of carrot purée later, Judy and Mr. Otterton were really starting to enjoy the party. It was a littler waterier than she had expected, but even so, there was something else about the way the purée was blended, something special about this concoction. And whatever it was, it left Judy absolutely giddy. She was crying with laughter at Mr. Otterton's surprisingly accurate impressions of TV stars and politicians. Inexplicably, he was able to copy exactly the mannerisms of Gazelle. As he sashayed around the empty tiled kitchen, where nothing else exciting was occurring, Judy poured herself another tall glass and tapped out a beat for her host.
Mr. Otterton's antics proved refreshing, though terribly tiring. He was breathing heavily as he scooted up a stool to the granite-covered kitchen island, where Judy sat nursing her freshly filled glass.
"Where is Mrs. Otterton, sir?"
"Oh, she's in that mess somewhere. She's much better at the entertainment bit than I am."
"I don't know, sir. You have some pretty good moves!"
He guffawed while dragging the half-devoured soufflé closer to the edge of the island. Even though the kitchen was devoid of other guests, it still felt a little cramped to Judy. She noted internally that such a judgment coming from someone who lived in an apartment barely big enough to fit a bed may not be the most accurately developed.
"Judy," Mr. Otterton spoke with a mouthful of soufflé, "may I ask you a more personal question?"
"Sure, sir."
He fidgeted in his stool, the discomfort plain to the expert eye of a ZPD officer. "I don't want to be offensive with this. But, for my own curiosity…have you been able to…put to use what happened a year ago?"
Judy's brow furrowed in puzzlement while she took a big swig of her carrot purée. "What do you mean?"
"Well I… you know, this house here is a good example. There was never going to be a way I could've afforded it with what I had been earning before I was taken. Afterward, with the interviews and a really, eh, lucrative book deal, I paid cash for this place. A place where I can raise my family properly."
Myriad offers had fallen into Judy's lap, all of which she had eschewed with boilerplate language. Thank you for your interest. My work in the Night Howler Incident was simply part of fulfilling my civic duty as an officer of the Zootopia Police Department. I have had the great distinction of serving my community, and….
"I hope I'm not being too intrusive, Judy, I'm just…I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry. Maybe it's this purée…" he trailed off as he drained the dredges of his own clear plastic cup — he had bestowed upon Judy the singular haute chalice from the kitchen cupboard.
"No, you're fine, sir. I guess…I guess I never really liked the spotlight. I only wanted to do what was right."
His smile upturned the corners of his mouth (now soufflé free). Barely noticeable dimples formed in his cheeks. "I'm so glad to hear that, Judy. I think many of this city's citizens would have…not necessarily exploited, but probably taken some significant advantage of the attention that came with this case. And I think… you not doing that, maybe that's why so much of Zootopia likes you."
That sentiment felt pervasive wherever Judy went. At first, she had feared it was a bout of narcissism: thinking everyone's eyes always watched her or studied her from afar. It turned out she had been right. Eventually, the gawkers all summoned the courage to converse, and the unrelenting waves of compliments and congratulations began. The passage of time perhaps eroded her mystique, the aura of the great guardian of Zootopia transforming into something more relatable...something likable.
"Okay then, sir. If everyone likes me…" she paused for another drink, "…what should I do with my fame?" She threw back her head in a faux hair tousle and posed for a nonexistent camera. This made carrot purée shoot from Mr. Otterton's nose.
Judy gasped, but it was only a prelude to a modest chuckle. "Ack! Oh my, I wasn't ready for that!" His cheeriness did not depart as he dabbed at the orange dribbled down his sweater (though the festive bow tie remained remarkably immaculate). "But, in all seriousness, Judy," he started again once he regained his composure, "I think there's something you could do that could help a lot of us here in Zootopia."
Interest unquestionably piqued, she leaned in, her carrot-filled chalice firmly ensnared in her grip. "And what's that?"
Mr. Otterton had set aside his beverage — likely the ornate scent profile of the carrots, spices, and other additives was now implanted in his nostrils — and he adopted a certain air. It wasn't pedantic...Judy felt it was more instructional or even probing. "Do you follow politics, Judy?"
No. "Occasionally."
"Then you are likely aware that an election cycle is fast approaching?"
Coincidentally, Judy had been informed that was the case through one of Bogo's all-team meetings. It had been the one before the meeting she most recently skipped, in fact. The chief had wanted teams on standby for what he believed was to be a contentious election and to plan ahead for riot control, even though the campaign season had still been a relatively long way off. Probably Bogo being overcautious, Judy thought, but she had perked up in her seat as her little team had been assigned their various (and droll) duties. She nodded, which was much to Mr. Otterton's delight.
"Splendid! Well, you know that Former Mayor Lionheart has been imprisoned ever since he…mishandled the Night Howler business."
Judy detected the inkling of loathing in Mr. Otterton's tone. She knew he was not a spiteful man, but given the hardships he underwent during that time, she perfectly understood the source of his tone's darker undercurrent.
"And after he left," he soldered on while Judy almost finished her glass, "he was stripped of his authority. And with Bellwether out, the line of succession was pretty well busted. So somebody somewhere decided there should be appointed an emergency manager to run the show. A wolf by the name of Lobos got the job, and he and his staff have been in there for a little while now. But Lobos, he's a crony, Judy, a rusty cog of an old system. Stale, unimaginative, he's left everything stagnant. Nothing really changed once Lionheart got the boot."
Judy pulled off some mental backflips as she tried to reconcile her image of Mr. Otterton the family man with Mr. Otterton the astute politico. As such, she missed the nuances of his discussion and made the wise decision to keep mum at this point.
"So we need a refresh," Otterton was happy to fill the gap. "Someone new, who citizens trust to look out for them. One of their own, not some appointee made by…well, who knows who."
The sinking feeling from the car struck again with a vengeance. She gulped down the rest of her carrot purée, hoping it would shove out that stone sitting in her gut. It didn't. "Do…do you want to run against this Lobos guy?" She knew the answer, but she hoped she was wrong.
She wasn't. "Oh no! No, my place is here, with my family. I'm…not made for that, I don't think." The small pause extended for an eternity. Judy's paws buzzed as her mind raced to answer what was coming next. "But you, Judy. You could do it."
She decided to play coy. Perhaps she could lead Mr. Otterton to talk himself out of it. "Do what, sir?"
Even after downing so much carrot purée, Mr. Otterton retained enough of his wits not to fall into such an obviously laid trap. "Think about it. Everyone in this city adores you. You're honest, true to your word. You care about us, all of us. You have a real civic mind and a kind heart, Judy. You would be perfect."
She abruptly found herself stuck in a mental sludge, brought on by the glasses she had emptied. Arguments formed languidly and then broke apart under her detective mind's scrutiny. "But I've only lived here a year, sir. There's no way I can understand the city's needs."
It was a weak jab, and Otterton easily countered. "So what? You've been in the streets. You've gotten to know the real folks here. You've made Zootopia your home. We all see that and respect it."
"But I'm…I'm not a politician, sir! I'm a police officer."
"And maybe that's precisely what we need, Judy. Someone like you who is far removed from that old machine. You could shed a light on so many of the real issues that plague our city — you've seen them, you know them. You could make a real difference."
Mr. Otterton, unassuming Mr. Otterton, was turning out to be an impressively eloquent speaker. Conceivably, Judy could have missed that before: too focused on the Night Howler craze, most likely. Judy considered how much thought and planning Otterton had given to this notion. She recognized she was too deep into the purée to successfully fight against his obviously well-formulated idea.
Retreat became the clearest option. "Okay sir, I'll think about it, alright?"
His voice softened a tad, edging on conciliatory. "I know, it's a lot to drop on you, right in my kitchen. You came here for a good time, and I'm boring you with all this…." Then, he pressed with a final surge. "But, I just want you to know that I'm not the only one who thinks this. There are a great number of us, Judy, we who are grateful for what you've done. You'd find a lot of support."
Stunned into silence, Judy leaned onto the cold and soothing granite countertop on the kitchen island. She wanted to lay her head down and let these fanciful notions spurred by copious amounts of purée float past, out and up to the clouds where they belonged. Instead, she giggled.
"Ah, good, I had thought I'd scared away your laughter. I had a few more impressions that could've helped but…oh no, this stain is going to set in!" Mr. Otterton picked at the drying mess splashed across his sweater. "I suppose I should go find the missus."
"And I should find Nick." A solid plan of action developed, and Judy jumped down from the stool only to land on wobbly feet. Cut back on the purée next time, her mind admonished while her paw sought a stable hold.
"Here, let me help…" Mr. Otterton fussed with his sweater while he dismounted. He made a crook in his forelimb and extended it to Judy, who gratefully accepted.
"Thank you, Mr. Otterton."
"You're most welcome. And next time, Emmitt is fine."
With steadier feet, they both walked past the island, past the omnipresent scent of carrot, and past the ideas tossed out between orange-tinted glasses.
"Nick!"
She nearly bowled over a gaggle of partygoers when she saw her partner. Poor Mr. Otterton was dragged along behind, but he managed to muster sufficient strength to hold tightly.
With a loud thump, Judy planted her feet a couple dozen inches from Nick's. "Hey!" she practically shouted.
"Hey there, Hopps. Looks like you've been having a little fun."
She sloppily nodded for several unbroken seconds, which brought forth Nick's grin. "Time to go home, Hopps?"
"Yes!" As luck would have it, the commotion had drawn in Mrs. Otterton, who looked stunning in her emerald evening attire, a far cry from the bawling woman Judy had so serendipitously met long ago. As Judy slipped from her host's arm, a newly freed Mr. Otterton could pull in his wife for a warm embrace before showing off his stained sweater with a weird pride. The couple talked among themselves as Nick donned the mantle of responsibility and stabilized Judy with a free paw.
"Officer Hopps, thank you for stopping by!" Mrs. Otterton effused. "I wanted the kids to see you, too, but we sent them to a relative for the evening. We figured they'd be bored silly with all these grown-ups!"
Judy and Nick shared a smile, but neither had anything clever to offer. To say the least, Judy was shocked that Nick was without a witty retort. Maybe Nick had been ready to conclude his evening for some time, only staying behind at her behest. Her nerves flared up again.
Mrs. Otterton noticed the unusual awkwardness, too, and pivoted like a skilled socialite. "Well, either way, I'm so glad you and Officer Wilde could make it."
"Happy to be here, ma'am!" Judy started swaying gently. She caught the taps of Nick's paw as it tried to center itself. "You have a lovely home and family!"
"Yes you do, she's right about that!" Nick's paw, now solidly placed on the square of her back, was guiding her body toward the front door. "But duty will call soon, and it's about time we turn in. Gotta keep the city safe!"
Mr. Otterton's bespectacled eyes lit up as he caught on. "Of course! Thank you both. We hope to see you again soon!"
Nick smiled and then, with a curt shove, hastened their departure. As they stepped over the threshold, Judy noticed how hot the house had been. Chilly breezes blew through the night sky, which had sent many outdoor partiers scrambling for shelter. She rued her decision of a sleeveless dress and began shivering on the short walk to the car.
They stopped briefly, and then something heavy ran along her neck. She looked down to the black lapels of Nick's jacket draped over her shoulders. Her shivers subsided, and Nick deftly maneuvered her through the lawn and down the street, right up to the side of their car.
Once Nick had situated her in the cabin, Judy rested her head against the cool tempered glass of the passenger window. The Otterton house picked up and moved away, disappeared as the engine rumbled. The streetlights appeared again overhead as halogen stars to lead her home.
Her nose twitched. She eyed her driver. "Hey, Nick…how much of that buffet did you stuff into your pants pocket?"
The knowing grin was plastered on his face. "A third of the party platter. It's pretty good. Want some?"
"No! You keep your pocket snacks. That's…that's all you."
"Your loss," Nick opined as he fished out something that sounded tasty when he crunched into it. "So, you and Otterton," Nick managed between loud bites, "what were you doing in there? You two were gone for a while."
Judy laughed. Though there was no reason for it in this instance, Nick being protective brought her a special kind of joy. "Just chatting."
"C'mon, Hopps. What were you up to?"
She scoffed at needing to rebuff Nick's inquisitiveness, her own curious nature apparently rubbing off on him. He could be pushy, doubtlessly so, but prying into things was not as useful of a skill for someone who made his living on the street. Much more like a detective.
"Mhm… y'know, when did you stop calling me Carrots?"
"I can if you want me to, Carrots. Doesn't bother me."
She hummed a few bars of nothing in particular. The folds of the dress swished as she dallied. "Hmm…no, I like Hopps. You say it in a funny way. Hopps. Hopps…too much emphasis on the 'p' sound, Nick."
He sounded more strained than normal. "I'll take that under advisement, Hopps." For a couple moments, Judy pursed her lips, wondering if her giddiness bothered her partner. It was maddening for him, perhaps, this reversal of roles: her now carefree and him the worrywart. A new streetlight shone brilliantly through the crystal windowpane, though, and she was smiling again. Nick, however, was not through. "Now, you and Otterton?"
"Oh yeah! He… had this …." She broke out into spontaneous giggling. It really was a funny proposition, now that she had left behind the heady kitchen air. "Okay, so…he thinks I should run."
The pause was so long that Judy had enough time to be distracted by every button on the dashboard before Nick said, "Run?"
"For mayor, Nick! Otterton wanted me to run for mayor — can you even believe that!"
She had planned for a laugh, or a huff of disbelief, or even a gentle rebuke. Instead, Nick met the insane development with ponderous silence.
Another turn of the wheel passed, and Nick said nothing. Though her mind was addled after Otterton's bacchanal, she could rather effortlessly determine why his quietness persisted. "Not you too!" Judy could barely restrain herself. Otterton formulating this crazy scheme was one thing, but Nick…there was no way he could be swayed so easily.
"Why not, Hopps? You'd be good at it."
"No, I'm good at being a cop!" She did not mean to pout. She actually appreciated Otterton's assessment and accompanying vote of confidence. But, whether due to the long and tedious week in the office or the pitcher of purée she had polished off this evening, revisiting the whole proposition in the car ride home brought forth an unpleasant and unwanted scowl.
"Yes, you are. And you'd also make a great mayor."
"But I — no, I just…" she spluttered in the face of explaining herself again so soon. The carrot concoction had taken full effect: had her mind been slowed earlier, now it was practically at a standstill. She was forced to repeat her argument. "I'm not a politician, Nick."
Nick cranked the wheel to slide through a sharp left turn. They were nearly home, as far as she could tell. "Well, anyone can be anything, right?"
As the car straightened, Judy's mouth fell open. "Oh, you must stop! That's not…applicable here."
"And why's that? Just taking that to its logical conclusion. If you can be anything, why not be the mayor?" He fed the engine with more fuel, and the car jerked as it revved. "Does have a certain ring to it, yeah? The Honorable Judy Hopps, Mayor of Zootopia. That'd go to your head pretty fast."
Judy would have huffed, but she found it difficult to feign dislike for the title. With that little extra pressure that Nick added to the 'p' in Hopps, it did gain a certain entrancing quality. Of course, this all may simply have been Nick being Nick, and her mind had already practically surrendered for the evening. "It's nice."
"Oh, just nice? C'mon, Hopps, you know it's fantastic."
She couldn't suppress the giggle in time. Nick seemed to delight in this fact. "Fine, it's really nice, okay?"
He laughed as the car pulled up to the curb. Parking lights splashed onto the sidewalk. He made a move to open the door and step around the car, but Judy beat him to it.
"Thanks, Nick. I'm glad we were able to go." Before disembarking, she shimmied her shoulders in an attempt to shrug off Nick's jacket. In cramped quarters, it became a surprisingly challenging exercise.
She had almost gotten out of one sleeve when he piped up with, "Keep it. It's cold outside."
"But what about you?"
"I'll be fine. I'm better insulated." He picked at a stray strand of fur that had surreptitiously snuck out of the cuff of his oxford shirt. His devilish grin shone in the backsplash of headlights illuminating the car bumper ahead. His canine teeth gleamed in a striking manner, not scary or feral, but alluring, in a way. Perhaps it was the smile altogether that accentuated their look: the synergy of the lift in his cheekbones, the neat pearly rows, the light gathering at pointed cuspid tips. She returned the smile, heartfelt but only half as endearing, she felt.
She replaced the jacket on her shoulder, which was a much simpler task. Her feet had been shaky in the air, but once they connected with the concrete, she was stable. "Well…good night, Nick."
Parking lights were doused as he shifted the car into drive. "Good night, Mayor Hopps."
"You'd best stop it now!" she shouted as she shut the car door with a solid clunk, trapping his laugh in there with him.
As the car pulled away, Judy waited outside. She just wanted a few moments before she headed back to her tiny slice of solitude in the high-rise. The chilly breeze brushed against her cheek, and she closed her eyes.
"The Honorable Judy Hopps, Mayor of Zootopia." A nice ring to it, indeed.
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Disclaimer: Zootopia is not mine. But enjoy the story anyway.
Updated: 2/21/17