Sly bolted out onto the street and looked around. The roads were wet from a light rain that was sweeping through the city, and within a few minutes a fair amount of it was clinging to the raccoon's fur. He pulled his black jacket tightly around him and raised his collar against the bracing wind. He couldn't see any sign of either Bentley or Murray; there were just a few pedestrians with umbrellas and the odd car that roared past. Sly frantically looked up and down the street for some clue as to where his friends had gone. On his second pass he caught sight of Murray's van. They'd had more than enough cash left over after the Clock-La affair to furnish Murray with a nice new transit. It was the hippo's most urgent concern after the well being of his green chum. The van was white, although at the moment it was caked with filth and mud from Murray putting it through its paces on the narrow Parisian streets. He had gotten around to giving it the gang's paintjob yet, which was probably just as well. They were trying to lie low after all. Once they got back on the job Murray would be able to fit it out with the gang colours and Bentley could give it all the usual refinements. At any rate, its presence outside their apartment meant that they must have gone on foot. Sly stopped for a moment. Now all he had to do would be to find somewhere likely within the surround in few blocks with convenient wheelchair access. Sly groaned loudly, ducked his head into the wind, and set off down the street.

The first place he walked past was a small wine bar in the next street, but with no wheelchair access he quickly ruled it out. He stood outside for a few seconds and breathed in the fruity aroma of the drinks inside with a sense of longing. With a sigh, he tore himself from the doorway, while overhead a blue fork of lightning divided the grey sky. The rain intensified, and within a few seconds Sly was soaked to the skin. He shivered miserably. He thought he'd check the Bar in the old indoor garden. It had been converted years ago when the tropical plants had stopped pulling visitors. Normally it was far too upmarket for the gang, but it would be a likely spot for Murray and Bentley to avoid him for a few hours, and Sly knew for a fact that it had excellent wheel-chair access. He'd robbed it a couple of times after all. Sly sloshed in the direction of the bar, and before long the domed roof appeared on the horizon. After a little more wet trudging, he reached the large glass doors of the front of the building. He pushed his way through, and shook off the worst of the rain in the entrance. Potted plants stood along the short corridor to the middle of the bar. It was just one big room; all that had been changed since it became a bar was that most of the plants were removed. There was a circular bar in the middle of the room that was manned by several bar staff, and radiating out from it were dozens of wrought iron tables that served as the drinking areas. Interspersed at regular intervals between the tables were more plants, large ferns and spider plants, and massive leafy trees that Sly couldn't identify. He supposed it was a harking back to the buildings' greenhouse days. The surprisingly loud patter of the rain on the glass roof near deafened him, and a quick glance up showed thousands of tiny waterfalls blurring out the sky. Sly frowned. He supposed he'd better have a quick scout around for his friends, maybe stay for a drink and beat it. He craned his neck from the doorway, scanning the tables one by one. Luckily, the place wasn't too packed; there were only a handful of people in at all. There were a couple of dogs at the table nearest to him drinking cocktails. He shifted his gaze onwards. All the people that were here seemed to be couples having a good time, laughing and drinking. He looked further on, and came to a table that was partially obscured by a tall fern. The occupant on the left side of the table, the side that Sly could see, was a large pink hippo, who was just under twice the width of the chair. Sly couldn't see Bentley, but he could see the outline of a wheelchair just before the fern. He sighed deeply. It was time to go and grovel to his two bestest best friends in the whole world.

He stalked towards the table as slowly as possible, trying to get what he was going to say before he got there. His cheeks burnt as he grew closer to the table and he had a prickly feeling running over his whole body. He still wasn't quite sure what he was going to open with, but he was sure he'd think of something. He hoped he would anyway, he was nearly there, a few more feet, round the fern, oop, shit, he was there.

At the sight of him at their table, Murray and Bentley's demeanour changed instantly. Bentley's face dropped all emotion and he stared into space, while Murray seemed uncertain how to react. His eyes kept flitting between Sly, Bentley and the three empty beer bottles lined up on the table in front of him.

"Hey guys," Sly began in a small voice. Bentley and Murray both made indistinct grunting noises in response. Sly guessed he should have expected that.

"Look guys, I'm, ah, I'm sorry about before."

"Yeah?" Bentley said, meeting Sly's gaze evenly.

"Yeah. I've been a bit stressed out lately and I was being a Jackass."

"Okay then." Bentley said with a smile. He nodded to Murray, who booted the chair in front of Sly forward so he could sit down. Sly took it gratefully.

"Really, I'm sorry guys." Sly repeated.

"Forget about it," Bentley replied. "Did it take you long to find us?"

"Not really. There are only so many places that have wheelchair access."

"Ah. Well I like it here. Opulent surroundings, pleasant staff, and a wine collection that'd rival count Dracula."

"I see. Remind me to stop stealing from here." Sly grinned. "How come you're drinking coke then?"

Bentley glanced at his half full glass with disdain.

"I'm on lots of interesting antibiotics, so alcohol is probably a bad idea."

"Right," Sly nodded. "So how're you doing Murray?"

The hippo emitted a loud belch and giggled with the vigour of a schoolgirl at a Chippendale show.

"Lovely." Sly commented. "How many has he had?"

"Almost three." Bentley said reaching for one of Murray's bottles. "So why have you been stressed out lately?"

"Aw, I don't know." Sly rested his elbows on the iron table. "I guess I haven't really come down since we defeated Clock-La. I keep thinking about how we first started out, how we used to be."

"They were cool times." Bentley smiled. "Remember when Murray ate the crayons?"

"Yeah!" Sly laughed. "How were they again Murray?"

"Waxy." The hippo declared.

"Groovy." Sly said. "Whose round is it?"

"Yours." Bentley and Murray said in unison. Sly should have expected that too.

"Fine." He said fishing his wallet out of one of his pockets. "Another coke for Bentley and another beer Murray?"

Murray belched again.

"Attaboy."

Sly rose from the table and strode over to the bar. He ordered a tall coke for Bentley and a couple of beers for himself and Murray, exchanged a few flirtatious glances with the cute bunny who served him and made his way back to the table. He plonked the drinks down in front of his buddies, took his seat back and took a deep pull on his beer. Outside the rain somehow grew audibly heavier and the sky darkened. Over the horizon there was a rumble of thunder. Sly slammed his beer down and sighed a sigh that had about three months in the making. This was the first time he'd really felt relaxed since before they started tracking the Claw gang. He leaned back in his chair and let his head hang over the back and watched the rain.

"This is the life." Sly said without moving.

"We can do this as often as we like now." Bentley sighed,

"Now that we've finished with Clock-werk you mean?" Murray slurred.

"Yep." Sly looked up. "Took a little longer than I'd planned, but…" He added with raised eyebrows.

"And now back to business as usual," Bentley finished the thought.

"I say we hit a casino next," Sly said in a low voice, leaning forward towards his friends.

"Are you kidding?" Bentley whispered, leaning in towards Sly as best he could. Murray was slumped over the table, so he was already within earshot. His eyes moved between Sly and Bentley the same was a dog's do when they're lying on the floor. "Casinos have the best security in the world. It'd be easier to rob a military base."

"Mugshot's casino didn't have good security." Sly offered.

"Big deal. You saw the state of Mesa city when we got there. I'm surprised the damn thing was still standing."

"I suppose." Sly shrugged. "Besides, I don't think we should rob them so much as…cheat."

"Ah, now you're talking," Bentley beamed. "So what, tap sensors, card watching, loaded dice, that sort of thing?"

"Whatever you say." Sly said blankly. Murray snorted a loudly. The other two gave him a strange look.

The three continued to drink and talk for half an hour or so, planning what direction they were going to take the gang now that they had accomplished all that they had first set out to do. Bentley was speculating that if they got enough money together they could probably buy a nice new place without arousing too much suspicion. Sly thought that at any rate they'd better have a back up hide-out, just in case. Murray suggested as coherently as possible that perhaps the reason none of them had girlfriends was because they all lived together.

"Well would you have it any other way?" Sly asked.

"Naaaaaaaaaaah." Murray explained.

"There you go. And besides, I've got a girlfriend."

"Ah yes," Bentley snorted. "The elusive Carmelita. A cop and a robber. How poetic."

"And what, may I ask, is that supposed to mean?" Sly enquired with a smile.

"It means," Bentley said through a barely contained guffaw "That you've got a better chance of forming an intimate relationship with Murray than you have with Inspector Fox."

At this Murray gave Sly a kissy face. The raccoon recoiled slightly.

"How supportive." Sly said, with a glance at the hippo. "And how deeply disturbing."

"I tell it how it is, man." The turtle exclaimed.

"Well I haven't seen you beating the ladies away lately."

Sly grinned. He had the little green smart-ass.

"What?" Bentley feigned outrage. "I'll have you know I have an active Internet relationship."

"And did you tell her, assuming that they are actually female, who you really are?"

"Of course! Bentley…the six foot tall, dashing, wolf."

Sly and Murray laughed loudly while Bentley frowned before emitting a small chuckle of his own.

"And that just leaves out little pal Murray," Sly said turning to the hippo. "Where do you stand romantically?"

Murray looked uncertain for a few moments before making the kissy face at Sly again. Bentley choked into the remainder of his coke.

"Dude." Sly said in repulsion. "I'll get this round in too, I owe you guys. Same again?"

Murray nodded vigorously.

"What the hell, get me a glass of the house red." Bentley replied.

"You sure?" Sly checked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, it just means I'll get drunk quicker, one or two won't hurt."

"Okay then."

Sly paced over to the bar for a second time and ordered the drinks. While he was waiting he leaned against the bar and looked across the tables towards the door. There were less people in here now, most seemed to have opted to brave the torrential rain and gone home. Just then the front entrance was pushed open and a woman walked in. She paused to sweep her damp blue hair out of her eyes and to shake down her brown jacket. The fur on her face was wet and matted and her normally pointed ears drooped slightly from the water. The rain had made her jeans and the blue T-shirt she wore under her jacket cling to her like a second skin. She shook her head back to get all her hair behind her, and strode purposefully to the bar. Sly scooped up the drinks like a student at a wedding and raced back to the table, doing his best to keep his face hidden from the new arrival to the bar.

"Did you see who just breezed in through the door?" He said to Bentley and Murray as he handed them their drinks. The walk back to the table had seemed agonisingly long; Sly was half expecting to hear the sound of a shock pistol being fired at any moment. Bentley and Murray craned their necks to see around a spider plant to the bar.

"Uh oh." Bentley whispered as all three kept their heads down low. "Inspector Fox."

"Yeah." Sly hissed.

"Wadda we do?" Murray contributed. Sly raised his head a little, just so that he could see Carmelita past the fern.

"She's off duty…" he murmured, as a narrow smile spread across his face. At the bar Carmelita ordered herself a beer and slumped miserably into one of the stools.

"Cooper…" Bentley said slowly, elongating the word as much as possible, even as Sly began to rise from his chair. "No."

"She's never seen me without a mask before…"

"No."

"You guys stay out of sight, she'll catch us for sure if she sees you two here."

"No."

"Catch you later."

"No, Sly, no, no, damn it…" Bentley hissed frantically as Sly left the table, leaving Bentley and Murray behind.

"You see that?" The tortoise said to his friend. "I swear, if she doesn't shoot him, I will."

Sly strode over to the bar with purpose, a glint in his eye and a whole lot of lies in his head. He hit the bar at the stool just next to Carmelita and quietly sat down.

"White Russian, please," He said in his best English accent. The rabbit who was serving gave him a strange look but thankfully she didn't pass comment. She disappeared for a few moments to mix his drink.

"Hello there," Sly said, turning to Carmelita.

"Hey." Carmelita replied, non-committaly.

Sly filtered through all the chat-up lines he knew in his mind and came to the incontrovertible conclusion that they were all awful. The bunny returned with his drink.

"Thank you. I say, you look like you've had a rather hard day, care to unload a bit?"

"Yes," Carmelita said, looking at him for the first time, "But not to you, I'm afraid."

"Ah yes. Do forgive me, I was being far too over-familiar."

Sly pretended to catch sight of the police emblem on the side of her jacket.

"Good lord! You're a police woman?"

"Detective Inspector." Carmelita corrected icily.

"I do beg your pardon. Detective Inspector, eh? That sounds like a rum do."

Carmelita let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Takes a stern sort to be in that line of work. I daresay you've seen more than your fair share of carnage, Miss…"

"Fox. Carmelita Fox," Carmelita replied, opening up a little.

"So you see," Murray continued to a highly bemused Bentley, "Only two members of the fiendish five were truly evil. Clock-werk and Raleigh."

"I see…" Bentley said, massaging his temples.

"Raleigh was just looting and plundering for the fun of it, and Clock-werk was… well you know, Clock-werk."

"Right. And…Mugshot, Mrz. Ruby and the Panda King are excused, how?"

"Well, they all had bad upbringings. Mugshot was severely bullied, Mrz, Ruby had no friends and the Panda King was an orphan. They were pushed into a life of crime."

"Murray, we're orphans."

"And we're thieves."

Flabbergastered by Murray's use of logic, and even more that he was still able to form a coherent argument, Bentley drained his wine glass.

"I hope Sly's doing okay."

"You seem familiar, Sir." Carmelita said with narrowed eyes. "Is there something I should know about you?"

Luckily Sly had been waiting for this.

"Well I'm an actor by trade," Sly delivered smoothly. "I expect you've seen me in one or two commercials."

"Commercials?" Carmelita repeated incredulously as she drained the remainder of her beer.

"Well yes, I know it does seem rather vulgar, but regrettably Shakespeare fails to draw the crowds it once did."

"I love Shakespeare!" Carmelita cried, with slightly too much enthusiasm. Clearly, she was testing him.

"Oh really?" Sly carried on regardless. "Which is your favourite play?"

"The Tempest." Carmelita hissed through barely concealed mirth. Ouch. If Sly wasn't careful here he could end up either looking very stupid, or worse. The Tempest? Wasn't that the one on the island? Why couldn't she have said Hamlet, Goddamnit?

"Ah, Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises, sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices that, if I then had waked after long sleep will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming the clouds me thought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again."

Sly made a little gesture with his hand at the end, as he thought an actor may well do. Carmelita's face showed a mixture of surprise, admiration, and…was that attraction? God I'm cool, sly thought as he grinned broadly. Finally, going to the theatre with Bentley had paid off. At this rate he'd have her back at the hideout before she could say 'Hey, you look a lot like a guy who I've been trying to arrest for the better part of two years'.

"Impressive." Carmelita smiled at him.

"Well, one tries. Miss Fox, would you do me the pleasure of allowing me to buy you a drink?"

Carmelita glanced at her empty bottle.

"Why yes, thank you. I'll have the same again, Mr…?"

"How remiss of me. My name is…" Sly faltered for the briefest of moments, "Stephen. Stephen Reilly."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Reilly." Carmelita smiled.

"Oh please, call me Stephen." Sly said. "Same again please barkeep."

The bunny bartender rolled her eyes at him, but fortunately it went unnoticed by the vixen. A moment later there was a fresh bottle of beer for Carmelita and another White Russian for Sly.

"You must think I'm very common, drinking beer while you're having fancy cocktails," Carmelita said, aside.

"My dear lady," Sly said with expert timing, "I scarcely believe that you could do anything 'common'."

"Hmph." Carmelita chuckled. "Flattery'll get you nowhere."

"Then might I enquire as to why such a beautiful lady such as yourself looks so down on a night such as this one?"

Carmelita sighed a deep sigh.

"Well, work's not going well. The commissioner's riding me into the ground, I've been demoted and I'm facing a tribunal next week."

"Demoted?" Sly repeated, his accent slipping slightly. Carmelita didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah. I'm this city's whipping-girl now. I'm not respected by my colleagues, I'm given the most bullshit assignments in this city and it's all I can do to stay on the force."

"Sorry." She added, taking a large swig of her beer.

"Not at all. So… what brought all this on, Miss Fox?"

"Aw, I let a suspect escape." Carmelita sighed. Sly winced inwardly. He knew that he was the reason that she was having such a rough time as soon as she said it, but it still hurt to hear it confirmed.

"I had him it the chopper, we were on our way to the station, but he bailed and parachuted away. I could have shot him down but I didn't. I didn't have any excuses."

"Very…very noble of you, and all that… Not shooting a chap in the back…" Sly said weakly.

"It had nothing to do with me being noble." Carmelita scowled. "Normally I wouldn't have hesitated, but… Hell there was just something about that guy."

"Something that warmed you to him perhaps, if I might make so bold?" Sly said, regaining his composure.

"I don't know." Carmelita sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I hate this guy, I've been tracking him for years, but every time I get close to busting him… I can't do it."

Like you've ever been close, Sly thought to himself.

"Well, you never know," He said comfortingly. "Maybe you'll catch him yet, and it'll be just the boost your career needs."

"I guess."

"So… How did you first decide that you wanted to be a detective?" Sly said, anxious to change the subject. Carmelita stared forlornly at the bubbles in her beer.

"That's a long story."

Outside the rain continued to pelt against the glass roof of the bar.