"What are you doing?"
"Shh." Zack's slender fingers tugged his tablet away from Fox's prying hands. A small dormitory room crackled on the blurry video feed, identical to the one they were sitting in now. At the other desk beside them, Bill and Slippy grunted at the latest flavor-of-the-month VR game.
"Is that… Terry?"
The raccoon turned to Fox and grinned. Especially with those oversized nightclothes on, that mohawk made him look like a kid trying desperately (and failing) to look tough. "Just watch."
Fox leaned over Zack's desk. "You put a camera in his room?"
"Shhh."
At 19:00, Terry finished his private lessons with Professor Sanderson. It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the academy from the training grounds and five more to walk from the bay to the dormitories. At 19:22, the door squeaked open and the tall, portly wolf waddled his way in. Off came his jacket. Out came his keys. He slid open his desk drawer to stuff them inside, and...
The wolf backed away, frozen.
Fox's brow furrowed. "What's-"
Terry's hunched back blocked it from view, but he was no doubt watching a little cube hover and spin.
"What are you—no way." The fox guffawed. "You didn't—"
Terry howled and jerked back. Little nozzles had opened on each surface of the cube and spewed a mist of pink glitter all over his dorm. Zack met Fox's eyes and grinned. He raised a hand into the air, and the wide-eyed stare melted into a grin. The fox's palm slapped against Zack's.
"That's what he gets," Zack said.
"How did you even..."
The raccoon drank in Fox's wonder. "I got my ways. And don't worry. Couple'a days and it'll all be gone. Just wanted to freak 'im out."
"Don't screw with Zack, huh?"
"Screw with Zack all you want. Zack can defend himself." The raccoon pointed towards his roommate, bouncing happily as he won a round against Bill. Zack preferred this Slippy Toad over the one that muted his quiet sobbing into a pillow after Terry took a lighter to his favorite trading cards. "Don't screw with Slippy."
Fox's beaming grin quieted into a gentle smile.
Zack leaned in, lowering his head and deploying his puppy-dog eyes. "Did I do good?"
"You did good." He paused, side-eyeing Slippy. "You gonna tell him?"
"Nah." He flicked his ears. "I did good. Pet me."
Fox rolled his eyes, but he obliged. His palm nestled down between the raccoon's ears and gave him a few too-aggressive rubs. Zack countered with a soft chitter and powered off the display of his tablet. Behind him, he tried to wag his thick procyonid tail; it didn't come naturally to him, but when you spent so much time around canines, it helped to speak their language.
Fox's hand pulled back and gave Zack's nose a playful flick. Beside them, Bill swore and kicked the leg of Slippy's desk in frustration, which prompted further swearing. "Hey, Slippy's kicking Bill's ass," the fox said.
Zack stood and scurried over to watch. A happy warmth bubbled up from his chest and sculpted his lips into an easy grin.
Being bad always felt so good.