Sly leaned back as Carmelita finished her story. The rain outside the bar continued to lash down; the overhead storm showed no signs of abating. He took a sip from his drink as Carmelita stared into her own glass, lost in memory.

"So..." Sly said hesitantly, remembering to keep up his accent, "So that was your first experience of a bully?"

"Yeah," Carmelita sighed. "I guess it was. I've been dealing with criminals like that ever since."

"Do tell."

Carmelita shot Sly a sideways glance.

"Did you get in any trouble afterwards?" Sly said quickly.

"A little." Carmelita replied. "My Mum was livid, and my Dad was a little mad until he heard why I did it."

"He sounds like a lovely chap." Sly smiled.

"Yeah. I think he got in more trouble with my mum than I did." She said with a giggle.

"Well, that can often be the case."

"It was because of him that I joined the force, you know." She continued.

"Really?"

"Uh -huh. He was a security guard. He tried to get into the police but he failed the exams. He made sure that I went to university and got the grades I needed to do anything I wanted."

"But I'll wager all you've ever wanted to be is a cop, right?" Sly finished the thought.

Carmelita raised her glass to him and sank the last of her drink.

"A very noble cause," Sly continued waxing lyrical. Carmelita snorted with disdain and slapped her palm on the bar top for another drink.

"You don't think?" Sly asked.

"You really don't have a clue about how law enforcement works, do you?"

The bartender brought Carmelita a refill.

"Well, I must confess that I really don't." Sly half lied.

"When we make an arrest, we have to wade through tons of red tape and paperwork just to get the bastards to court. In the meantime they're a drain on the budget, which as it happens would embarrass a primary school drama department. And if god forbid, they have a little money they can forestall the legal process even longer."

"Oh." Sly said quietly.

"And then when you throw lawyers and crooked cops into the mix it becomes a whole heap of fun."

"Quite." Sly commented. "It sounds like you've had enough of the business."

"Yeah, well," Carmelita muttered. "I got burnt by the system."

"Burnt?"

"Two week suspension without pay." Carmelita sank yet another whiskey. The girl could hold her liquor.

"How…how did that happen?" Sly could help himself from asking. He had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I let a perp escape." Carmelita sighed, folding her arms on the bar top and resting her head on top.

"…oh…" Sly said weakly.

"I mean, I filed the report, I went through all the correct channels, but they still said I was grossly incompetent."

"Why?" Sly said, completely losing the accent. Luckily Carmelita had had too much booze to notice.

"This bastard, we had him in the chopper, on the way to the precinct," Carmelita said suddenly turning to Sly. He got the impression that their previous encounter had weighed somewhat heavily on the inspector's mind of late.

"…and after about ten minutes I discover that his little friends have bribed the pilots and rigged the engine to fly us around in circles. Where upon he jumped out of the goddamn plane and parachuted away with a parachute he keeps concealed under his clothes. I mean for God's sake, who wears a parachute constantly?"

"Right…" Sly gulped whist trying to simultaneously deal with the fact that Carmelita thought he was a bastard and appease his guilt that he got the poor girl suspended. "So how is that your fault?"

"Ah, well, that's the interesting thing," Carmelita said with a humorless grin. "My report clearly stated that I was armed at the time, with a shock pistol. It's against protocol to shoot to kill when the target isn't an immediate threat. So the DA said I should have taken the shot because the shock pistol is a non-lethal weapon."

"But if you'd have taken the shot he'd have died anyway…" Sly half groaned with his eyes closed.

"We were 2000 feet above Paris. If I'd paralyzed him he would've dropped like a stone."

Sly groaned inwardly. His guilt was complete.

"Course, the DA glossed over that little detail."

"Let me…let me buy you another drink." Sly clumsily regained his accent. "Another shot for the lady," He said aside to the bunny bartender.

"Should've taken the damn shot." Carmelita said miserably as yet another whisky straight was planted in front of her.

"Why…why didn't you?" Sly knew he should probably drop the subject but he couldn't resist.

"I dunno. I guess because he wasn't posing any immediate threat to anyone, and I don't like shooting people in the back. And," She added as an afterthought, "I owe him a couple of favors. Long story."

Sly merely nodded at this. His curiosity for the time being had been satisfied. He hadn't really expected Carmelita to elaborate any further on why she hadn't shot him. If he were feeling narcissistic he would've said that the legendary Cooper charm had played some part. Still, he knew he's have to work something out to get Carmelita back in Interpol's good books.

"I'm sure you'll get him eventually," Was all the comfort Sly could offer right now though.

"Hmph." Carmelita said, noncommittally. "Well, I'm the inspector who knows the most about this guy, so while I'm suspended this city's gonna be his little playground."

"What a horrible thought," Sly said, while making a mental note to rob Paris blind over the next two weeks.

"Can you see them?" Murray said, keeping low to the tabletop.

"Yeah, pull me back," Bentley replied. Murray had eased Bentley's wheelchair just proud of three tall leafy fern that their table was behind so he could see over to the bar. Murray reeled the tortoise back quickly.

"So what are they doing?"

"Just sitting and talking. It looks like she's had a few."

"Oh." Murray whispered. "What are they talking about?"

"How the hell would I know that?" Bentley hissed at the hippo. Murray nodded earnestly.

"I sometimes wonder how she got to be police inspector." Bentley breathed. "I mean the guy's got black rings around his eyes anyway, take his mask away and what've you got?"

"I dunno, sometimes I'm not sure who Sly is until he puts his mask on." Murray smiled pleasantly. Bentley stared at his friend for a few seconds.

"The hell with this…excuse me," Bentley managed to discreetly attract the attention of a mouse who was collecting glasses.

"Could we have a bottle of bourbon over here please?"

"I'm afraid you have to order at the bar sir."

"I'll give you 50 euros." Bentley said evenly.

"Will Jim Beam be alright, sir?"

"Well, you know, I'll be around for a while, so if you'd like to meet up again and perhaps talk some more I'd be more than happy to meet up with you." Sly said. It was a clumsy way of asking her out he knew, but it was the traditional British awkward charm angle that he was going for. He was just hoping that Carmelita was numb enough from the alcohol for her to fall for it. She cracked a large smile at him. Bingo.

"Well, I'm not sure...I mean I don't usually..."

"Don't get me wrong Mrs. Fox, I'm not after anything untoward. It's just I find you very stimulating company, and... Well, if I might make so bold you seem very down at the moment, and I would love to take you out to dinner and perhaps attempt to cheer you up some more."

Her smile widened. He had her.

"Ok," She said with abandon. "Why not."

She took a business card from her inside jacket pocket and a pen. Sly watched her as she wrote her phone number on the back. Maybe it was the booze that was beginning to gently massage the back of his brain but he couldn't take his eyes off Carmelita. Even in his current state he was vaguely aware that someday she was going to get the better of him. Why couldn't she be a big grim male cop? Why did she have to appeal to Sly's fantasies? The only reason that she kept catching up with him was because he wanted her to. One day he was going to take too long, stop to flirt just one time too many, and the enchanting Miss Fox would drop him before you could say 'tequila slammer'. For a brief moment Sly had a compelling urge to tell Carmelita the truth. In his mind's eye he could see himself dropping the false accent and baring his soul to Carmelita, who he'd take in his arms and whisk away to a private place. Sly blinked. The drunken moment passed and he was back at the bar. Carmelita extended two fingers and passed him the card with a sly smile.

"Thank you," The raccoon gulped.

"Anytime," Carmelita replied as she pulled her coat on and finished her last drink. "See you soon."

The vixen rose from her chair and strode purposefully away from the bar to the entrance. Sly watched her push her way through the glass doors, and he could just make her out hailing a taxi from the rainy sidewalk. Sly breathed a deep sigh and looked at the card Carmelita had given him. Detective Inspector Carmelita Fox of Interpol, followed by what was presumably her work number. Sly flipped the card and found her home number. He failed to suppress a large cheesy grin. He had in his possession the holiest of holy grails. He slipped it in his inside jacket pocket. While he was there he retrieved his wallet and thumbed through it for his bar tab. He counted out how much he owed and added a generous tip. He tossed the notes on the bar and downed his drink with a wince. The bunny bartender retrieved the money and the empty glasses.

"I can't believe you got away with that," She said to him through a half smile.

"Makes two of us," Sly grinned, once again in his normal voice.

Sly slid from his barstool and shakily made his way back to his friends' table. When he got there he found that they were engaged in a Herculean meeting of the minds. A debate, if you will, of epic, nay godly proportions that nothing Sly had hitherto witnessed equaled.

"Hoppy the Marvel bunny could so beat the Samurai Pizza Cats!" Murray whined.

"You're insane." Bentley slurred.

"Hey guys." Sly said cautiously, edging slowly into his chair in such a way that he could get away quickly.

"Well, if it isn't the great Casanova," Bentley giggled. "How'd it go?"

"Got her number!" Sly gloated.

Murray laughed out loud and raised a goliath pink palm to Sly, whilst Bentley merely shook his head.

"Unbelievable."

"What do you mean?" Sly asked, high fiving Murray.

"How did she not recognize you?"

"I am a master of disguise." Sly retorted carelessly. Bentley snorted.

"You look exactly the same, man." Bentley said candidly.

"I do?" Sly checked, genuinely surprised. Bentley nodded at him.

"Well, it doesn't matter. The point is I got her number and once again the charm and skill of Sly Cooper triumphs."

"Well, that was very nice Sly. Wanna shout that again, I think there may have been one or two OAPs who didn't hear you at the back of the room the first time." Bentley deadpanned.

"Sorry." Sly said sheepishly.

"No matter," Bentley said, waving his hands, as if to dispel bad thoughts. "Drink with us."

"I thought you were supposed to stay off the alcohol." Sly said shrewdly.

"Weeeell that all depends on how you look at it," Bentley drawled while he retrieved a bottle of pills from a small bag that hung on the back of the wheelchair. "Look, here it says 'Alcohol may intensify effect'." He said, running his finger along a tiny line of print on the bottle.

"Now that could either be a warning or a serving suggestion."

Sly let out a disbelieving laugh, to which Bentley and Murray joined in.

"Alright," Sly said, accepting the half full bottle of Bourbon from the tortoise. He supposed if he started drinking too it would be less booze for Bentley, which in his current state could only be a good thing.

"It has been a while since we all went out together."