Nick sat outside the precinct on the stoop of the steps, his elbows on his knees. He'd changed out of his uniform in the station's locker room, rationalizing that he'd just get changed when he got to work tomorrow. Well, if I get to work tomorrow, he thought. 'Cause if I end up drinking as much as I feel like drinking right now, I doubt I'll feel much like working.
Not that he felt much like working at the moment, either. The bitter sting of himself letting Judy go off to dinner with Cam still throbbed in his chest. "God, what's wrong with me," he muttered to himself. "I was so sure that guy was a scumbag that I pushed Judy right into his arms. How'd I screw up so badly?"
A cheetah walking with her son scooted him along faster past the strange fox mumbling to himself on the steps of the precinct. Nick almost spoke up to tell her he was a cop, but thought that might just look even stranger, and kept his mouth shut.
"What am I even doing. Judy's your best friend and partner, not to mention a bunny," he said as he ran his hands through the fur on his head. "And that's not even mentioning that you're almost a decade older than her…"
Nick's sad train of thought came crashing to a halt as the roaring sound of an obnoxious conversion van driven by an even louder fennec fox reached his ears. Soon enough, Finnick's van came whipping around the curb and ground stopped sharply in front of the station. His left tire had hopped the curb and his approach had sent bystanders scattering. Nick couldn't help but smile at the sight of his friend rolling down the windows to yell at him. "Well, mopey, you gettin' in or what? 'Cause I got stuff to do, and distinctly absent from that list is sitting here starin' at your sorry ass."
Nick hopped up with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which is to say, not much. He trudged over to the passenger door and slid inside, almost tripping over the curb on the way to the door.
"Goddamn, Nick, something serious must have changed in the," Finnick paused, glancing at the clock. "Two and a half hours since I saw you. What the hell happened, man?" Nick stared at his friend. His face was contorted strangely in confusion, but deep in the bags under Finnick's eyes, Nick saw concern tucked away and well hidden. Finnick's worry gave him a semblance of comfort, but as soon as his thoughts returned to Judy and Cam, his mood plummeted once more.
"I… am a total idiot and screw-up, that's what happened," Nick said after several moments. That earned a chuckle from his diminutive partner.
"Hell, I coulda told you that. Where's that bunny, anyway? I was, uh, kinda hopin' to say what up to her. She seemed alright when she was lookin' for you after that Nightwhatever stuff a while back."
Nick's cheeks burned, and he could only look at Finnick with as innocent a mask as he could muster. It wasn't enough.
Finnick's eyes widened at Nick's expression. "Woah, did, uh, somethin' happen? You two fightin' over work or whatever people with real jobs do?"
"Not… exactly," Nick managed to get out. "She's, um, out to dinner with a reporter right now. Figured I'd make it awkward."
"Why the hell would you make it awkward, y'all discussin' a case or- ohhhhh," Finnick replied, realization dawning like a new day over his face. "Oh man, we got some stuff to talk about, don't we?"
Nick merely nodded, his tongue thick and dry in his mouth.
"You feelin' things for this bunny, aren't you?"
Nick stayed frozen for a moment before nodding again, noting that it was for the second time that day that he'd been at a loss for words in front of Finnick, which he was fairly certain was more times he'd been speechless in their entire previous history combined.
"Man, it's a good thing I got the hookup with the bartender there, 'cause I have a feelin' tonight ain't gonna be cheap," Finnick sighed as he nearly floored it, peeling out of their not-exactly-a-parking-spot.
Nick found momentary happiness in the fact that yes, Judy got just as angry on the road as Finnick did, and they were both equally awful drivers. If it weren't for the overwhelming fear and need for self-preservation, the sudden stops and swerves that Finnick was doing on the road would almost be comforting to him, like he could look over and Judy would be sitting there, cursing cab drivers and mentally putting hexes on street lights.
"So did you and her fight, man, or what?" Finnick asked out of the blue as they stopped at a red light. "'Cause things were totally cool earlier, or at least they seemed like they were."
Nick sighed, and felt himself uncoil his muscles for the first time since his argument with Cam. "No, well, yeah, we did, but everything turned out alright," he began. "I kinda accused the hare of being out to get Carrots, or bring her down, or… honestly, I don't even know what I was accusing him of." He lay his head back against the headrest and shut his eyes. "I haven't been myself lately, man. Can't sleep, can't think straight, I mean, I swear I hallucinated a tiny version of you at least three times in the last two days."
Finnick turned slowly to face his friend, his expression loudly and clearly saying that perhaps Nick shouldn't have mentioned that last part. "This ain't gonna get weird, is it?" Finnick asked, his voice laced with trepidation. "'Cause I signed up to go out drinking with you, not be your shrink."
Nick recoiled in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. "Don't worry about it, we don't have to talk about it," he said, looking at the floor.
Finnick groaned. "No, that's not what I'm saying, just chill out. Look, you clearly need to talk about whatever's got you down, and I'm gonna do that for you, just… if you get drunk and start tellin' me you love me n' junk, I'm gonna whoop your ass, we clear?"
Nick coughed out a chuckle. "Hah, don't worry, it takes at least five shots in me before I start getting all 'I love you, man,'" he said. "So you, uh, really don't mind talking about this crap with me? 'Cause I could really use some ears right now, and yours might just be big enough to do the trick."
That earned a solid punch from Finnick, though Nick was delighted to learn that Judy hit harder than his former partner. His delight did nothing to soothe the ache in his shoulder though; Finnick still packed a punch in his tightly-wound frame.
"And you know there's more coming where that's from if I hear another word about my ears," Finnick said, swerving to cut off a minivan. Nick could have sworn it was intentional, considering how quickly Finnick had to slam on his brakes and how he had soon returned to his original lane.
"Relax, I'm sure they're a hit with the ladies," Nick replied, rubbing the spot that Finnick had struck.
"You're damn right the ladies love them," he said, slicking back his ears with a paw. "But that don't mean you get to comment on them, so if you want cheap drinks tonight, I suggest you start showin' a little respect to the master."
Nick cocked an eyebrow. "The master, huh? And what exactly are you the master of?"
"Haven't you been payin' any attention? The ladies, man! I know how to get 'em and keep 'em, which sounds like exactly the problem you're having, so pay attention. You might just learn something."
"Uh, Finnick, not that I'm not appreciative, but I'm not exactly looking to pick up a girl tonight," Nick began. "I'm just looking to get my mind off things, you know?"
Finnick slapped his forehead, causing the van to veer dangerously toward the curb. Nick frantically reached for the passenger handle, only to remember that he'd accidentally torn it off in fear a few years ago during a particularly car-chasey escapade with Finnick.
"Look, moron, I'm not tryin' to hook you up with some random girl," Finnick replied. "We're gonna make it so you can actually talk to this bunny chick about how much you're clearly into her. At least, we're gonna do it after we've got a few in us. I don't know if I can handle you sober when you're so mopey about this crap."
Nick once again shrunk into his seat, trying his best to disappear. "Oh, uh, of course. Boy, sure can't wait to bare my soul to the master of women himself, so masterful that he still drives the same beat-up van with shag carpeting in the back," he said. He hadn't meant for that to sound so bitter, but he couldn't help it from creeping into his words.
"Okay, first of all, this van is sweet, and you know it. Second of all, I ain't gotta do shit. I could just leave you here and let you figure all this out on your own," Finnick snapped back. "So drop the attitude, you're bumming me out."
Nick sighed heavily, realizing just how pitiful he was sounding outside the confines of his head. "You're right, Finnick, my bad," he replied. "Man, I haven't been out to drink in a long time, I think I really needed this."
"You don't go out with anyone from work? What about the bunny?"
Nick laughed, unable to contain himself. "What, Judy? At a bar, like, actually drinking? Yeah, not really seeing that happen."
"What, they ain't got bars in Boringville or wherever she's from? I bet she'd totally be down to go out drinking, you just didn't think to ask."
"She's from Bunnyburrow not… whatever you just said," Nick began. "And you don't know her like I do. I don't think she'd be comfortable going out drinking."
"Well, she's clearly cool with going out on a not-date with this rabbit dude, so maybe you need to reconsider what you think she can and can't do," Finnick replied.
Nick wanted to retort that it was different, and that her going out for dinner with Cam wasn't at all like a hypothetical scenario where she went out for drinks with Nick or other ZPD officers, but he couldn't find the words to argue. By the time he'd finally accepted that he didn't have a counter-argument, Finnick had executed the better half of a powerslide into a parking spot at The Predator's Gambit. Nick sighed and unbuckled himself. I am entirely too sober to be discussing this stuff with Finnick, or anyone, for that matter, he thought.
He'd never been to this particular bar before. It was sandwiched tight between a pawn shop on the left called Will Buck's Gun and Pawn and a closed down building on the right that he suspected may have housed a barber shop at one time. The peeling ochre paint on the outside of The Predator's Gambit, coupled with the lone broken shutter on one of its windows told Nick the bar had seen better days, but the worn-smooth door handle to enter told him that mammals were here enough that it certainly wasn't doing badly for itself.
Once inside, he and Finnick walked across worn, scuffed-up wooden floors to an empty booth. There were about 20 other mammals already inside eating food and ordering drinks. Not bad for a Thursday night, he thought. A pair of panthers were playing pool in a corner, while a small group of wolves were huddled around a jukebox, laughing about what to play next. Bad 80s rock music was playing over the speakers, earning an eye roll from Nick. "Well, if the Fawn Jovi is any indication, this is pretty much a bar for losers," Nick chuckled to himself. He wasn't quiet enough, however, that Finnick didn't hear him.
"And what exactly would you call yourself right now?" Finnick asked, his voice dry and rough in Nick's ears.
"Ah, that would be, uh… a loser, I guess," Nick stumbled before sulking.
"That's right, but that's why we're here." Finnick walked over to a table with Nick in tow. An ocelot that Nick guess was in her early 40s came over to take their order.
"Hey, Finnick," she said. "How's it been?"
"Oh you know, Betty, same old, same old," he replied. "Can we get a pitcher of that one stout you guys got?"
"Hair of the Dog? Sure thing, hun. What about for your cute friend over there?"
Nick's ears perked at what he hoped was a mention of him, and did his best to look natural and not at all taken aback by the compliment.
"Nick? Oh, you don't want him Betty. Besides, he's already taken. You want anything, Nick?"
"Yeah, I'll have a vodka tonic to start, thanks," he replied. His voice broke in the middle of his sentence, and his cheeks were flush with embarrassment.
To her credit, Betty laughed it off. "No problem, sweetie. Can I see your ID?"
Nick awkwardly fumbled, trying to access his wallet in his back pocket. He nearly dropped it as he tried to casually flip it open to Betty, but she seemed satisfied with his license.
"Alright, I'll have that pitcher and that drink out to you guys soon." With a flick of her tail, she strolled over to another table and began serving them. Finnick broke out in laughter, causing Nick's ears to fold flat against his head.
"Man, I don't know what that bunny did to you, but she broke you in like a rented mule," he cackled.
"C'mon, man, not so loud," Nick whined, his head peering over the top of their booth to see if anyone was looking at them. Everyone in the bar was preoccupied with their own drinks and games, and no one seemed to be paying Nick and Finnick any attention.
"What do you mean, 'not so loud?' Your voice cracked like you was back in high school, and there ain't any coverin' that up."
"No, not about that, about the fact that, you know," Nick began. Finnick had stopped laughing, his brow furrowed at his friend. "Could you not mention the bunny so loudly?"
"Oh, come on, man," Finnick said, shaking his head. "Is that what this is about? You feelin' guilty over bein' a fluff-chaser?"
Nick's cheeks burned, and an overwhelming urge to defend himself boiled inside him. "Don't call me that," he said through clenched teeth. "Or I'm out of here, and you can just drink alone."
"First of all, I'm totally fine drinkin' alone, so if you trying to shame me about that, try again," Finnick said. "And second, there ain't any shame in likin' that bunny, Nick. Nothing wrong with bein' a fluff-chaser. Everyone got their own kinks, so the earlier you get over yours, the better."
"Ugh, couldn't this wait until I at least had a few drinks in me?" Nick said. "I'm not nearly drunk enough to have this conversation with you."
"You brought it up, so I don't know what you want me to do about it," Finnick shrugged. Nick was fairly confident that he didn't, in fact, bring it up, but he knew to choose his battles with Finnick wisely.
"Okay then, if everyone has something weird about them, what's yours then?" Nick asked. "Though I hope it's not bunnies. If you had a kid with a bunny, I'm pretty sure the size of their ears would create a state of emergency for blocking out the sun."
"And I'm pretty sure if you had a kid with a bunny, it would be a sign of the end times, 'cause there ain't any way you're getting laid," Finnick replied without skipping a beat. Nick just pouted that his comeback had been so thoroughly matched. Before Finnick could reply to Nick's question, Betty returned with their drinks, putting out two chilled glasses and a pitcher full of amber-colored liquid. She also placed a highball glass in front of Nick with his vodka-tonic in it. He grimaced internally; he wasn't even really a fan of tonic, but he was in a sour mood, and it was the kind of drink that he liked to imagine his father would order if he ever met him. He took a sip and shuddered; the bitterness burned going down, though it wasn't altogether unpleasant. It wasn't something that would get ordered often, but Nick had a feeling this was exactly the kind of drink he needed now.
"Y'all just holler and let me know if you need anything else, alright?" Betty asked. Nick wasn't precisely sure where an ocelot had picked up such a country accent, but it was endearing, so he just nodded and smiled.
"Yeah, sure thing, Betty," Finnick said, already pouring himself a beer into one of the mugs.
"Alright, I'll just leave you be, then," she said, turning to head back to the kitchen. "Oh, before I forget, it's Tofu Thursday, so the fried tofu is half-off, just in case y'all get hungry."
Nick's stomach rumbled at the mention of food. He knew a night of beer and liquor sitting heavy in an empty stomach would end on his knees in front of the toilet, vomiting out all the night's money worth of alcohol away. "Actually, Betty, that sounds pretty good. Can you put an order in for that? There's no rush or anything," he said.
"Sure thing, sweetie. Teriyaki sound alright?"
Nick nodded. "Well that's good, 'cause we're out of just about everything else," she tittered. "Don't tell no one that I told you, though."
Finnick made a cross symbol over his heart. "Wouldn't dream of it, Betty."
"I'll go put that order in for y'all," she said, turning back towards the kitchen.
"So, you were saying?" Nick asked, turning to Finnick.
"What was I saying again?"
"You said that everyone has their own weird kink, and I asked what yours was. You didn't actually tell me."
"How do you not know this already, man?" Finnick asked. Nick just shrugged. "I don't know, we never really talked about relationships before."
Finnick leaned in close to Nick. "Well let me tell you, my friend. You ain't lived until you've been with a… lady of larger proportions."
Nick cocked his head slightly. "Larger proportions? What are you talking about?
"C'mon, man, you know, large. Hippos, rhinos, elephants, women of a voluptuous nature. Once you been with a elephant, there ain't no goin' back to women your size."
Finnick took a deep sip from his glass while Nick just sat there in shock. He was vaguely aware of the drink in his paw, but Finnick's revelation left him temporarily unable to think of anything except his friend with a woman the size of an elephant.
"Wait, so let me get this straight," he began, finding his voice. Finnick spied him warily over his glass. "You're telling me you've not only been with an elephant before, but you've sworn yourself to chicks that size?"
Finnick nodded, staying silent and taking another sip of his drink.
"H-how does that even work?" Nick exclaimed. He knew he was overreacting a bit, but the seemingly impossible logistics of Finnick and a hippo together felt like it was frying his brain. "I mean, you're so little, and they're so…"
"Big?" Finnick offered.
"Well, yeah, big! Enormous, even!" Nick said, exasperated. He couldn't figure out how Finnick seemed so blase about this.
"So what if they're big? Trust me, other mammals have made stranger things work out," he replied.
"Sure, but why, though?" Nick asked. "I mean, just the logistical planning and execution involved…"
"Why are you into that bunny? How is me havin' a preference for real women any different than that?"
"I suppose it's not, but- wait, what do you mean, 'real women?' What, like chicks your size don't do it for you anymore?"
"Let me tell you something, when you're my size, the dexterity you can offer an elephant is unparalleled," he said. "You can be in complete control, man! I mean, my fingers and hands alone can get up-"
"Nope, we're done here, far too much than I ever needed to know," Nick interrupted. He took a long drink from his vodka tonic, cringing as it went down. Finnick seemed unfazed and simply shrugged.
"Look, the more mass on a woman, the more she can offer. That's pure scientific fact," he said, topping off his glass. Nick noticed that his drink was over half gone. Finnick was right, this is gonna be an expensive night, he thought.
"I'm pretty sure that's actually not scientific fact, and is actually some crap you made up just now," he replied. He peeked his head over the walls of the booth they were in again, but still found no one else paying attention to their conversation. He felt a bit of tension leave his muscles, though that might have just been the vodka beginning to make its way through his system. He took another drink, if only to remove any doubt about why he was relaxing.
Betty seized the lull in their conversation as an opportunity to bring over their plate of fried tofu. A saucerful of a thin, brown sauce was centered on the plate, surrounded by fingerlings of breaded, crispy tofu. Nick's mouth salivated; he thought back and realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He grabbed at some of the offering before Betty had even finished setting the platter down on their table. The tofu was deliciously crispy, with a subtle umami sweetness from the teriyaki seasoning in the breading. The food warmed his throat as he swallowed, and he sighed, smiling.
"Boy, someone sure was hungry," Betty laughed. "Well, like I said before, they're half-off tonight, so if you boys are up for more after this, just gimme a shout, alright?"
"Sure thing, Betty, thanks," Nick said, reaching for another fried morsel just seconds after swallowing his first one.
Finnick rolled his eyes and swatted at Nick's paw. "Man, have some respect when you're around a lady," he said. Nick managed to nab some tofu, stuffing it in his face in defiance to Finnick's smack. "Maybe this is why you got girl problems, 'cause you eat like a pig."
"I know some pigs, and I'm pretty sure they'd take offense to that," Nick replied with his mouth full. Oh god, I'm turning into Judy.
"Oh, Finn, you know I don't mind none," Betty said. "In any case, just grab my attention if you need anything else."
"Actually, another one of these would be great," Nick said, gesturing to his nearly empty glass.
"Sure thing, hon, I'll go tell the bartender." She quickly strolled away, leaving Nick to return to the uncomfortable realities of learning about the fetishes and late-night proclivities of his best friend.
"So, uh, you were saying how you love women twenty times your size," Nick mumbled out. He drained the watered-down remnants of his drink, and hoped that the bartender was quick.
"Oh, right," Finnick said, dipping one of the pieces of tofu into the sauce and munching on it. "Ladies that big love a man who can take care of them, especially when they're as good with their hands as I am. Think about it, they're used to hooves and junk, so when someone my size comes along and can get my fingers-"
"Once again, the details are 100% not necessary," Nick interrupted. He hastily grabbed for another piece of tofu and shoved it in his mouth whole, just to try to focus on something else.
"My point is, you would have never thought that a fine-ass hippo hookin' up with me would be something I'm lookin' for until I told you, let alone if it's possible," Finnick said. "Almost everyone has something a little weird about 'em, so the fact that you happen to like a bunny registers as pretty normal as far as I'm concerned." He took a long sip of beer, letting Nick stew in his thoughts. The fox didn't say anything at first, choosing to just stare into his empty glass, watching small drops of condensation slide down the outside and onto his fingers. He looked over to Finnick and smiled weakly. "T-thanks, Finn. I think I really needed to hear that," he said.
"'Course you did, when have I ever been wrong? Never, that's when."
Nick snorted loudly. "Uh, how about that time you were sure that bottled air from Tundratown was gonna sell like crazy in Sahara Square? 'Breathe in the icy chill of the tundra!' Completely ignoring the fact that the air got warm by the time it reached the square." Nick was outright laughing now, nearly choking on one of the last pieces of tofu. Finnick steamed, looking everywhere except in Nick's direction.
"Well, alright, except for that one time, I've always been right," he said, his lips pursed.
"No, what about that other time that-"
"Okay, okay, point taken," Finnick said, holding his paws up in Nick's face. His chuckles were dying down, and the pitcher of beer in front of Finnick was looking more and more appetizing. "Hey, pour me one out, would you?"
Finnick nodded, filling up the second glass and sliding it over to Nick. He'd never been much of a beer guy, but the bitter, slightly-honeyed notes felt good as he drank deep.
Taking advantage of Nick's silence, Finnick spoke up. "So let me ask you somethin'. You haven't actually admitted to havin' a thing for this bunny yet," he said. "What do you like about her so much?"
Nick coughed into his beer, sputtering as some went down the wrong pipe. "I-I don't know what you're- ah, screw it," he said, his shoulders drooping. "Yeah, I got a thing for Carrots. A huge thing, if we're being honest. Never had it this bad for a girl before."
Finnick nodded. "How long you been thinkin' this?" he asked.
"Only the last few days, but I think it was there for a long time before that, and I was just too stupid to recognize it."
"That does sound like something stupid you'd do," Finnick said. "So then, what do you like about her? What does she do that's got you so screwed up?"
Nick took a long drink of his beer before continuing. "She's… God, she's just amazing, man," he began. "She's seen so much crap as a cop already, but she's still so optimistic. This city chews mammals up and spits 'em out all the time, but she's still going strong. She remembers all my favorite stuff, without me even telling her, like she just notices that I always get hazelnut coffee with one-and-a-half sugars, and weeks later she's ordered me exactly what I want. Not to mention how good she looks without even trying. She looks better in her stupid meter maid uniform that the models and pop stars up on the billboards in Sahara Square." He paused to take another drink. Finnick stayed silent, quietly munching on the last piece of tofu. "Plus, she cares so damn much about everyone. Whether it's trying to make me feel better when I've had a shitty day, or a little bear cub who dropped his ice cream in Tundratown, or overloading her schedule with so many cases because she just can't say no to helping another mammal, she somehow makes room in her heart for everyone. I don't know how she does it, but I can't help but love that about her." His head was in his paws, and his fingers were anxiously working themselves into his fur. Finnick's eyes were wide at his friend's speech. He reached out and put a paw on Nick's shoulder, who turned to look at him.
"I gotta say, as your friend," he began. "That's… the gayest thing I ever heard. Also, you're so stupidly in love with this bunny, I mean goddamn, open your eyes."
Nick almost choked on the air he was breathing he started laughing so hard. "I-I don't know why I was expecting anything different, Finn," he said between gasping breaths. "Also, please explain how me talking about my feelings for a woman is 'gay.'"
"C'mon, man, all that mushy stuff? I just wanted you to explain yourself, not cry on my shoulder."
Nick tried to subdue his chuckles to middling effect. He reached out his paw and pinched Finnick's cheek. "Aw, something tells me that someone has some repressed feelings about how many times you had to give a kiss for daddy to get the stuff for Pawpsicles."
Finnick swatted away Nick's hand. "Knock that crap off, man!" he exclaimed, punching his friend solidly in the shoulder. Nick was beginning to wonder if he was actually part punching-bag, maybe on his father's side.
"Hah, alright, I deserved that," he said, rubbing the spot where Finnick had slugged him. Finnick drank deeply from his mug, eyes looking everywhere except at Nick. Although he was sure he was just imagining things, he thought he saw the lightest tinges of pink on Finnick's cheeks as he drank.
Betty had returned with his drink. Nick's stomach hadn't stopped its gurgling, though he could feel the alcohol working through his system.
"Hey, Betty," he said. "You think we could get another pitcher, and maybe some more of that tofu? I think we're gonna settle in for a while."
"Sure thing, sweetie, I'll go take care of that in a jiffy," she replied. His mind wandered to Judy, Cam, and eggplant bisque. I wonder how her night is going, he thought.
"So then I said, 'Look, ma'am, as much as I'd love to do a story on your prize-winning carrot's battle with depression, I'm just really booked right now," Cam said. Judy couldn't hold her giggles back any longer, raucous laughter escaping her lips. A few other patrons stared at her outburst, but neither she nor Cam paid them any attention.
"Oh geez, and how many calls did you get like that in Rabbitton?" she asked.
"At least two per day," he replied. "It almost got to the point where I felt bad for turning them down."
Judy quieted her giggles for long enough to take another spoonful of her eggplant bisque, which was just as amazing as Cam had described on the drive over. She sighed with content as she savored the hearty flavor of the soup. "So how'd you find this place out of all the restaurants around?"
Cam paused from taking a sip of his water. "What do you mean?"
"Well, there's gotta be dozens of places to eat in Sahara Square. I wouldn't even know where to start looking," she said.
"Oh, actually, a coworker of mine did a review of this place for the website, and said it was outstanding," Cam explained before taking a bite of his salad. He swallowed before continuing. "Food is amazing, and the prices are reasonable. It's not easy finding a diamond in the rough like this; it really helps to know a bunch of other mammals who are familiar with the city."
"Yeah, I bet," she replied. "I still don't really know much of the city, just what Nick has showed me, and work keeps us both pretty busy."
"Hah, don't I know it," Cam replied with a chuckle. "So many late nights because of a fire at midnight, or some moron decided 1 a.m. was a good time to get shot while robbing a diner."
"Geez, does stuff like that happen a lot?" Judy asked, her nose twitching.
"Not often, but enough that I'm warranted complaining about it," he said. "I'm sure you can sympathise. Cops are basically needed 24/7."
Judy let herself bask in another spoonful of soup. "Yeah, I guess that's true. I never really thought about it like that, though."
"What do you mean?"
She shrugged, and stared into her bowl of soup. "I don't know, serving the city as an officer is just my duty, you know? The time of day doesn't really matter."
Cam let out a low whistle. "I wish more public servants were like you, Judy. The city would run a lot smoother."
She blushed faintly pink, and her ears drooped slightly. "Oh, stop it, you flatterer," she said, pushing him lightly on the shoulder. As she looked down, she noticed the notepad that she'd brought in containing the names Finnick had given Nick. "Oh, carrot sticks," she said, reaching down for the notepad. "We should really get to discussing the case."
Cam shrugged and took a sip of water. "I hate to interrupt a good meal with work, but I'll see what I can do, Judy. Who are these names?"
Judy quickly rattled off the four mammals. Cam remained stoic as she read them off, his hands clasped under his nose. "Hmm, I'm fairly certain that I've heard of the boar and hyena before, though I'd have to double check with my sources," he said. "If I'm not mistaken, one of my contacts mentioned a boar aiming to drastically increase, shall we say, ill-gotten gains in the area. I could probably get you a general area that he's known to operate out of by tomorrow, or Saturday at the latest."
Judy beamed at Cam's offer, but her smiled diminished when she thought of Nick's words. "Cam, if you don't mind me asking, how do you know all this? I mean, you have to admit, it's a little unnerving that you can just tell me where these guys are working from."
Cam's face darkened. "C'mon, Officer Hopps, not you too," he said.
"Hold on, Cam, I'm not sure what you're-"
"Judy, where did you get those names?"
"Huh?" she asked. She wasn't expecting to be put on the backfoot. "Oh, uh, Nick managed to get them from an old, um, acquaintance of his."
"Which is exactly what I'm doing," Cam said, his eyes downcast. "I know mammals, Judy. Homeless, cleaned up drug dealers, folks just working to make an honest living. Hell, even some mammals not making an honest living. But for whatever reasons they have, they're willing to talk to me."
"Cam…" Judy began.
"That's all that I do. I just tell the stories and pass along the news from other mammals. Sure, sometimes those mammals aren't the best or most wholesome, but what they have to say is important. It just… it's just unfortunate that folks don't believe me, or think I have something to hide."
Judy didn't say anything, suddenly uninterested in the soup in front of her. The sweet and savory notes in it had reduced down to bitterness. Her ears drooped, and she half-heartedly flipped one off her shoulder.
"So if you want to know, the guy I've been talking to about this is a small-time drug dealer and hustler working out of the South Side. I can't and won't give you his name, but he's a decent mammal, just making ends meet," Cam said quietly. His head was down, but his eyes were boring through Judy, who could feel herself shiver under his gaze. "He saw some nasty business go down a few weeks back, something he probably shouldn't have seen, and reached out to me."
"If he saw something illegal, why wouldn't he have called 911 or passed the information along to us?" she asked.
"He didn't want to go to the police, because then he might get busted, and he's already got a record," Cam replied. "There are a lot of folks in Zootopia that see things, but are too scared to go to the cops. Whether they're right to be scared or not, when they contact me, a lot of times they've got a story, so long as I can fact check and corroborate it."
Judy wanted to say something in the ZPD's - and her - defense, but couldn't find the right words.
"Cam," she began, hoping to shift the subject around. "Why are you helping me, anyway?"
"Judy, part of my job is building relationships, and if I can have a good one with you, it'll make working with the ZPD that much easier," he explained. "Not to mention, this'll be a great story, and some bad mammals will get locked up as a result, hopefully, anyway. Isn't that enough?"
"I guess, but what about the contacts you have?"
"Yes, a lot of the mammals I talk to aren't stand-up, law abiding citizens," he said. "They're still interested in justice, or at least their own safety. Talking to them doesn't mean I'm some sort of criminal mastermind like your partner seems to think."
Judy was pulled from her somber reverie, and slowly turned to face Cam. "Wait, what? What does Nick have to do with this?"
Cam froze, and was overcome with the overwhelming urge to smack himself in the forehead. "Ugh, me and my big mouth…"
"Did something happen? Oh no, he didn't say something to you, did he?"
Cam's nose was almost uncontrollably twitching; he wasn't accustomed to being on the other side of questions like this. "He, uh, may have questioned me in the lobby about my intentions, and may have insinuated similar things as you did a little bit ago."
"That stupid fo- oh, yeah, I guess I did sort of do that, didn't I?" she asked, her tone shifting from outrage to modesty in a flash. "He wasn't a jerk about it though, was he?"
"Ehhh, calling him a jerk wouldn't be too far off from how he acted," Cam said, shrugging.
"Hey, watch it," she replied, her eyes narrowed at Cam. "Just because he was a jerk doesn't mean you get to call him one."
"Is that right?" he chuckled. "Well, I probably acted like a jerk back, although he did deserve it in my opinion. Besides, I think this dinner is more than enough revenge against him."
"Wait, revenge, what do you mean?" she asked before realization began washing over her face. "Oh, cheese and crackers…"
He waved his paw in front of Judy's muzzle. "Judy? What is it?"
"Cam are you… coming onto me?" she asked. "Like, is this a date? Oh geez, did I accept a date in front of Nick?"
Cam struggled to contain his laughter, but failed dramatically as it came spilling out of him in a cacophony of giggles. Judy felt her cheeks burn at his outburst, and was just about to smack him when he held a paw up to her.
"O-Officer Hopps, as flattered as I am, no, this isn't a date," he said through his dwindling laughter. "Although I'm not going to tell Officer Wilde otherwise if that was the impression he got. It's the least he deserves for questioning my integrity."
"Wait, so this isn't a d-date?" she asked, the red in her cheeks refusing to dissipate.
"Judy, I've got a strict policy not to get romantically involved with anyone who I consider a contact for work," he said. "Besides, no offense, but you're not exactly… my type."
She cocked her head and glared at him. She wasn't sure why those words incensed her, but she felt a strange urge to prove him wrong. "What do you mean, 'your type?' What, country bunnies aren't good enough ever since you got to the big city?"
Cam realized the hole he was digging himself, and frantically searched for a way out. "Oh no, nothing like that," he began. He was sweating under the intensity of Judy's gaze. "It's just… let's just say you don't have enough fangs or, uh, claws for my liking."
Judy's eyes widened as it became clear what he was saying. "O-oh! Well, uh, sorry I b-brought it up," she stammered.
"Judy, relax, it's not exactly something I hide," he said. "I just wasn't expecting to have my, er, romantic preferences brought up this evening."
"Really? You mean, you don't mind other mammals knowing?"
"Why would I mind? If no one knew, how exactly would I find a lovely leopard or lynx with an affinity for fluffy prey like myself?" he laughed. "I mean, it's not something I broadcast, but I don't hide it, either."
Judy could almost feel her neck hurt from the emotional whiplash Cam was giving her. "Geez, it sounds like you lead a busy life," she said.
"Yeah, you could say that. Makes finding time for dating hard, especially when you've got, er, preferences like mine."
Judy realized just how off-topic they'd gotten. "You said you'd be able to get me a centralized location by Saturday, right?"
"Hmm? Oh, of course. That shouldn't be an issue, at least I don't expect it to be," he replied.
Ah, screw it. If he can get that to us, I think I've done more than my due diligence, she thought. She tentatively tried her soup and was delighted to find it was still warm. Might as well enjoy the rest of my evening. "Say, Cam," she began. "If you don't have much time to meet other mammals, would you be interested if I passed along your number to a few predators that might be interested? I bet you could charm the pants off of them."
Cam cocked an eyebrow at Judy's offer and smirked. "Really now, charm the pants off? Officer Hopps, you aren't suggesting the sort of activities I think you're suggesting, are you?"
She nearly choked on her soup as she realized how exactly she'd phrased her question. "I-I mean, that's not, I didn't, er," was all she could get out before reaching for her iced tea and taking a big swig.
Cam broke out into little fits of giggles. "Hah, I know what you meant Judy," he said. "Although I appreciate the compliment. Now who's flattering who?"
She laughed along with him despite her mouthful of tea. "Y-you are such an ass," she coughed out, unable to hold in her amusement.
He reached for his water glass, but paused, glancing over at her. "I, uh, wouldn't mind it, though," he said, taking a sip. "If you passed along my number, I mean." His eyes scanned around the restaurant, his ears standing at full attention.
That earned an eye roll from Judy. "Smooth, Casanova," she said. "I'll keep it in mind, though."
"Thanks, I, er, would appreciate that greatly," he replied.
I wonder how Nick's night is going? Geez, I hope he doesn't think that I'm on a date with Cam… she thought.
"And who hic cares if she's out on a date with Mr. Journalist," Nick slurred. "I'm gonna get her an' never let go, one way or another." Nick's and Finnick's pitcher had been refilled for a fourth time, though the beer in their respective mugs was warm by now. Nick had personally seen through the demise of three more vodka tonics, while Finnick had gotten a craving for a Jackrabbit and Coke, which quickly turned into several. Nick turned to his friend; he wasn't sure when Finnick had grown a third ear in between the other two, but he thought it looked good on him.
"Thatsh the spirit, man," Finnick replied, casually waving his glass through the air, spilling it haphazardly. "Listen, listen, you are, wait, you're not listening." Finnick set his drink down and grabbed Nick by the cheeks, staring him in the face. "You are, just listen. You are a great c-cop, and I know you'll get Occifer Carrotfarmer back."
"W-wait, but I never had her in the first place," Nick replied. His words were stumbling toward Finnick's ears like they were trapped in a dense fog. "H-how can I get her back when I never had her?"
Finnick sat there, completely dumbstruck. He stared off into space for several moments before turning back to Nick. "What? No, you'll get her back, man, I just know it," he replied.
"Hah, thanks, I appreciate it," Nick said, smiling. "Man, I'll tell you, I needed tonight so bad. My day was going just awful, but I got my besssssst bro here to pick me up."
Finnick carefully eyed his friend. "Just watch it, I may be drunk, but I shtill know I'll kick your ass if you get all 'I love you, man' on me," he warned.
"Oh, but I do love you, Finnick," Nick replied, reaching out to him, arms outstretched. Finnick tried to make a dash for it, but the floor looked so far away that he was trapped up on the bench. He fought unsuccessfully as Nick wrapped his paws around him, pulling him in for a hug. "You're my best friend, man, and that's never, ever gonna change." Finnick growled when he heard Nick sniffle a bit.
"You- if you shtart cryin' on me, I swear-" Finnick mumbled out as he was smothered by Nick.
Finnick swatted and punched with all his might, but Nick kept shifting back and forth, making it hard to get a good hit on him. It was past 11 p.m., and much of the bar had either settled in or gone home for the night. As Nick was setting Finnick back down with a pat on his head, they heard the ding of the bell on the door, indicating that some mammals had just entered the bar. Nick peered his head over the booth and saw a familiar face; a small, heavy-set boar in a long coat had just walked in. His coat was slick with water; Nick wasn't even aware that it had begun raining.
"Hey, it's Marty!" he said, turning to Finnick.
"What are you- who's Marty?" he asked.
"Oh, actually, you wouldn't know him. He's from the precinct, I think he worksh in, uh, dispatch? Yeah, dispatch I think. Yeah, ol' Martin Tuskington."
"He a good dude?" Finnick asked. "Or is he gonna be the type to get all antsy over hangin' out with a hardened criminal like me?" He puffed out his chest, and Nick had to stifle a giggle.
"Yeah, that's you, a guy who's really seen it all. After all, there's no more dangerous hustle than selling Pawpsicles to lemmings outside a bank," he replied.
"C'mon, man, don't go tellin' people that, I hic got a rep to uphold," Finnick said, his voice tinged with a very uncharacteristic whine.
"Hah, I'll keep that in mind. And relax, he mentioned something when I joined the force about a cousin of his getting out of prison, so I'm sure he's down with your type."
"My type? What the hell do you mean, my type?"
"You know, 'hardened criminal?' That type?"
"Oh, yeah, which you know I definitely am," Finnick said.
Nick rolled his eyes and turned toward the booth where the boar had taken a seat. "Yo, Marty, over he-" he called out before immediately shutting up. The bell rang again, and in walked a particularly tall hyena, an otter, and a rather rotund boar. Nick ducked beneath the wall of the booth before slowly inching his head up, his ears folded back, scanning to see where the three would go. They looked around before the hyena noticed Marty. The cop waved them over, and they quickly went and sat down with him.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Nick muttered to himself. Finnick looked to be weighing whether or not he should finish his beer when he noticed his friend having a minor panic attack. "Woah, what the hell, Nick?" he asked. "What's up?"
"Finnick, remember those names you got me earlier today?" he whispered. Finnick nodded. "Well, I think they just walked in here and sat down at Marty's table."
Finnick's eyes widened. "Oh no, not Marty!" he said. "Wait, who's Marty, again?"
Nick slapped his forehead. "The cop I was just telling you about? He works at dispatch, and- oh, shit," he said. "Marty Tuskington, Raul Tuskero? His cousin had gotten out of jail a while back? Finnick, I think, er, I'm pretty sure he's working with Raul's crew."
"Oh, damn, you mean this Marty dude is a crooked cop?" Finnick asked.
Nick popped his head back over the wall of the booth. He strained to overhear their conversation, but struggled to over the bar's music playing over the jukebox. Marty looked jittery, and was constantly looking over his shoulder. He nearly glanced over in Nick's direction, causing Nick to duck back down once more.
Betty showed up at their table right as Nick was hiding. "So, fellas, can I get you anything else?" she asked cheerily.
Nick's eyes widened up to saucer plates as he gawked at the waitress's poor timing. "Not now, Betty! Can't you see we're busy?" Finnick hissed, an edge in his voice.
"Oh, sorry boys," Betty asked, her eyes to the floor. "I d-didn't realize, I'll just leave y'all be, then."
She turned and started walking away. Nick's heart went out to the ocelot; she didn't know, and he felt a strange compulsion to make her feel better. "Hey, Betty, come back, he didn't mean it," he whispered. She wheeled around, staring at the pair. Nick frantically waved her over, the perplexity on her face growing by the second. "Look, Finnick didn't mean anything, I promise," he said. "Do you think you could bring us some, uh, water? And maybe some pretzels or something? And, er, aspirin, if you have it?" He crouched low, gesturing for Betty to do the same
"Oh, um, sure thing, hun," Betty replied, crouching down to match him. "Any reason why we're hidin', though? Why the sudden need for sobriety?"
Nick sighed. "I think we're gonna be here a while."
