(A/N - Wow, I can't say how much I appreciate the support, everyone. The praise and critiques you've given me have been more than I ever anticipated when I started writing this story. I can safely say I never expected a story of mine to hit nearly 300 followers. I'm just glad that you are all enjoying reading it as much as I have been writing it. Hope you like the chapter!)

Nick and Finnick sat huddled at their booth, occasionally munching on the bowl of pretzels Betty had set out for them. She had come over about five minutes prior with tall glasses of water for each and several aspirin for them out of her purse. Nick counted his blessings; the food he and Finnick had eaten had done a decent job of keeping them from getting completely wasted, and he hoped the water plus the aspirin would keep them clear-headed enough to figure out their next move.

Nick strained and moved around, trying to get the best possible angle to overhear Marty's conversation with Beth, Raul, and Thomas without giving himself away. I swear, I'm never having another vodka tonic for as long as I live, he thought, nearly slipping out of the booth as he leaned awkwardly in an attempt to eavesdrop.

Finnick simply watched his friend make a fool of himself as he craned his neck like he was a college student, waving their phone around trying to find the one spot of decent wifi in a coffee shop. The fennec took a pawful of pretzels from the bowl, frowning. "So we really can't leave, that's what you're saying?" he asked.

Nick sighed and sat back down, his brows creased with worry. "No, well, not unless you want to get maimed by that hyena over there," he replied.

"How the hell is she gonna know who you are? You ain't in uniform; to her, you're just some dumbass drunk fox trying to stumble home." Finnick took as angry of a sip of water as he could, which was made difficult by Nick's giggles as he reached for his glass and nearly missed. "And don't you say nothin' about that, I swear the glass was movin' around."

Nick covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. "No, you're right, it was practically dancing on the table."

"Seriously though, why can't we just leave? You know Marty met up with these dudes, just tell your chief or whatever and let's get out of here."

Nick grimaced, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck with his paw. "See, the thing is, she kinda, uh, does know who I am. Or at least she'd recognize me," he replied.

Finnick glared at him, his eyes narrowing at his friend. "Please, Nick, tell me how the hell an enforcer like Beth knows you." He angrily chomped at another pawful of pretzels. "I'm sure it's a great story."

Nick stretched his collar a bit, uncomfortable with the sudden reversal in the conversation. "Well, Judy and I were on a sort of, um, stake-out, and Beth may have… seen us?" he said. He shrugged, trying his best to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. This is what casual people look like, right? Nick thought. Judging by the snarl adorning Finnick's face, it wasn't working.

"So let me get this straight," Finnick began. "You and your little bunny partner got found out by one of the most dangerous chicks on the street, and neither of you were beaten to a pulp? How the hell does that happen?"

"We managed to talk our way out of it, what can I say," he replied. "I don't think she suspected anything, but she definitely saw my face. She'd remember."

"Talk your way out of it? Damn, I guess you really are a smooth-talker if you can just bullshit your way out of Beth's claws," he said, letting out a low whistle.

"Heh, well, it was mostly Judy's idea," he replied. Finnick couldn't tell in the light of the bar, but Nick's ears were burning as he reminisced about Judy kissing him to escape the stake-out.

"Damn, the bunny did it? Guess I should give her more credit."

Finnick reached for his water, but paused before putting his head in his paws. Nick could hear a stress-laden sigh come out of his friend. "Goddammit, and now I can't just leave your ass here, because if they see me with you, then they're gonna know something's up," he said.

Nick chuckled, his anxiousness apparent in the wilting tones of his voice. "Hah, yeah, uh, sorry about that one, man," he replied. "I can confidently say that I didn't expect them to just walk in here. Have you seen them in here before?"

"Naw, I thought I heard they frequented some dive up on the North Side. I guess they picked a new place to meet up or something," he said.

Nick nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. Mix up the meeting places to keep anyone off their trail. Why would they, though? There's no way they could suspect anything."

Finnick simply shrugged. "That's what smart criminals do, man. C'mon, you know that. You get caught goin' to the same place every time."

"What, like we did? You're still selling outside that one lemming bank," Nick said.

"Hey, I never said we were smart," he retorted. "I mean, I was, but you-"

Finnick was interrupted by a loud bang from Marty's table. Raul had slammed a hoof down onto the table, startling Marty. Beth and Thomas remained unfazed. The other bar patrons looked their direction momentarily, but soon resumed their own activities.

Nick once again craned his neck to try to listen in on what was being said, but the music and background conversation was still too loud to make anything out. "Damn, I need to figure out what they're talking about," he said.

Finnick cocked his head. "Why? You already know they met up, that's enough, isn't it?"

"Nah, I mean, maybe, but I want solid proof. He could spin this as just meeting up with his cousin, and by the time the investigation is really underway, Raul and the rest could just vanish. I want something concrete that they can't argue with."

"Well, good luck with that, 'cause the second they see you or sniff you out, the only way you're getting out of here is on a stretcher or body bag," he replied, taking a big sip of his water. Nick eyed his friend carefully as he drank, his eyes lingering on Finnick's ears.

"Say, Finnick, how would you feel about doing me a huge favor? I'd owe you big time," he said. He knew slipping back into his hustler persona for a moment probably wouldn't work on Finnick, but he savored every chance he had at talking another mammal into something. He grinned at Finnick, who stared at him with his ears turned back.

"I don't even know what you're gonna ask me, but I can guarantee you that the answer's no," he replied, turning away.

"C'mon, don't be like that," Nick cooed. "I'll owe you a million favors."

"That's funny, 'cause last time I added it all up, I'm pretty sure you still owe me about two million from that one time I got your ass out of that jam in Tundratown," he said. Nick could practically feel the chill coming off of Finnick's words, and his fur prickled.

"Okay, look, you can really help me out here, and I don't know how to make it up to you, but I will, I promise," he said, his facade crumbling. He clasped his paws together in prayer, his eyes pleading to him.

Finnick sighed. "I guess I can at least hear what you're offering," he said. "What'd you want me to do?"

Nick rummaged around his his pockets before emerging with a carrot-shaped pen. He deftly slid it across the table to Finnick, who eyed it like Nick had given him poison.

"You recognize this?" Nick asked. "Well, if you could just go-"

"Oh no, hell no," Finnick said, shaking his head in disgust. "You think just 'cause I'm small I'll crawl over there so you can get your evidence or whatever. Well, you can shove that. Ain't no way I'm bustin' my ass for some police investigation."

"Hey, it wasn't just because you were small!" Nick said. "It was, uh, also because your ears are… really big, and you could probably hear them in case the pen doesn't work..." Nick trailed off as the reality of what he was saying hit his ears.

Finnick stood up in a huff. "Yeah, that ain't happening. I'm telling Betty I'm leavin' through the kitchen. You gonna call me small, I'm leavin' your ass here." He started making his way to the kitchen entrance. Nick reached out and grabbed his wrist, causing Finnick to recoil.

"Finn, I… please, man. I know you've already helped so much, and I don't really have any place asking this of you, but please. Do you think you could help me out?" Nick held the pen out to Finnick, whose foot was seemingly trapped between heading for the door and turning back towards Nick.

Finnick groaned, his eyes shut in a grimace. "Consider yourself lucky that we got so much history, 'cause I'd smack the hell out of anyone else for even suggesting this," he said, snatching the pen out of Nick's hands. Relief rained down over Nick as a weak smile found its way to his muzzle. "I can't tell you how much I apprec-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm the best," Finnick said, tucking the pen into his shirt pocket. "Just don't go telling everyone that I crawled on my hands and knees for the cops."

"Your secret is safe with me, Deputy Vulparino," he replied with a smirk. He dragged his paws across his lips like a zipper, and pantomimed throwing away a key. Finnick cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Uh-uh, no way am I your deputy. I'm just doin' you a favor that I will be paid back for. Also, you been hanging around that bunny too long, man," he said. "Alright, so what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Just try to get close enough to overhear their conversation, and record until you get something incriminating," Nick replied. "It doesn't have to be a lot, but just something that would show that Marty's working with Raul beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"Man, I can hear them just fine from way further away than that pen can pick up, why does it gotta be me crawlin' around?"

He paused, lost for words. "Uh, because you're small and hard to spot?"

Finnick pinched the bridge of his snout. "Remind me again why we can't just leave and you can tell your boss what you know?"

Nick sighed. "I mean, that might work, but if Raul's crew catches wind of it, they could get out of town or go into hiding before we can prove anything. Even Marty might make himself scarce, I don't know. I just don't want to risk it. I figured this case could take weeks to close, but if we can wrap it up soon, then-"

"Then the rabbit would stop having an excuse to hang out with that reporter dude?" Finnick offered up, a corner of his mouth upturned. Nick crossed his arms, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"I mean, that's at most a very small reason," he said. "These guys are doing some nasty work, and the sooner we can get them off the streets, the better."

"But it is a reason, though." Finnick's tiny smile grew, and Nick knew he was getting smugger by the minute. That's my job, dammit. He swore he wasn't pouting, but this conversation felt eerily reminiscent of previous talks with mini-Finnick. "Okay, it's a really tiny, almost insignificant reason, but yeah, it's a reason," he admitted.

"You're pathetic, Nick, there ain't no other word for it," he said with a laugh, clapping his friend on the shoulder. He looked over in the direction of Marty's table, and his smile faltered. "What if, you know, they see me? You gonna cover me? I… know I ain't the biggest guy, and if they catch me, are you gonna keep me from gettin' put in a shallow grave?" he asked.

Nick's heart sank, and squatted to look Finnick in the eyes on his level. "I've got full confidence that you can do this, but if things go sour, I'm not gonna leave you," he said.

Finnick let out an anxiety-laden sigh, and got on all fours. Nick had never seen him get down on that level, and was almost surprised by how little it made him look. Almost.

"I'm trustin' you Nick; you better not ditch me," he said, crawling around their table down the aisle. As much as he hated to admit it, Nick was right about one thing. His ears could definitely pick up what the other table was saying, but he'd have to get closer if he wanted the pen to catch it. He darted around the last table in the aisle; Marty and Raul's crew was in the next aisle over, about four booths down. Goddamn, these floors are nasty up close, he thought. There was a fine layer of dust and grime across the floors, dragged in by hundreds of paws and hooves from the streets outside. I gotta tell Betty once this is all through to get someone to mop this crap up.

He dashed across the last aisle without anyone seeing him. Most of the other mammals in the bar were preoccupied with drinks, pool, or conversation, and didn't notice a diminutive fox with big ears flitting from booth to booth. He could overhear Marty's conversation where he was, but he doubted he was close enough for the pen to pick it up. He peeked his head around the corner of the last booth at the end of the aisle, catching a glimpse of a distraught-looking boar with his head in his hooves. Next to him was an otter that seemed to be wearing an eternal grimace on his muzzle. Finnick could swear he didn't even see him blink. The otter turned his head in his direction, and he ducked back behind the wall.

He brought a paw up to his chest and felt his heart hammering away. He took a deep breath before risking another look around the corner. The otter had gotten out of the booth, and looked to be headed for the restrooms. Finnick's paws felt weighted down with lead, but he forced himself to scamper up to the next booth in the aisle and dive under the table. He could clearly overhear Marty's and Raul now, but he still wasn't confident that the pen would be able to register their voices. Their whispered toned would be difficult for the cheap recorder to pick up.

"Raul, don't get me wrong, I'm happy that you guys are finally making money, but like I said earlier, I don't know if I can keep this crap up," Marty said. Finnick's ears twitched slightly, unconsciously turning to make their conversation easier to hear.

"Marty, trust me, I know what cold hooves feel like, but you can't just back out now," Raul replied. "We've got such a good thing going here, and after busting your own cousin, you'd think that-"

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" Marty interrupted. He'd raised his voice above the hushed volume they'd been speaking at, and Finnick could feel a low rumble through the wood of the booth. Damn, sounds like Beth is gettin' tired of this, he thought. He quickly peered around the corner to see if Thomas had reappeared from the bathroom, but the coast was clear. He sharply inhaled before making a mad dash to the next booth, just one down from his goal. He grabbed the pen out of his shirt pocket and clicked it. He expected a little red light to blink at him, but none did. Hmph, well that's stupid, he thought.

"You're goddamn right I'm never gonna let you live that down, you got me thrown in jail, Marty! Your own blood, your own family! Where's the loyalty, huh?" Raul asked, raising his voice back at his cousin. Finnick overheard the almost indistinguishable sound of sniffing under the heated conversation. He held his breath and prayed that Beth wouldn't be able to smell him out.

"First of all, I'd suggest you keep your voice down, unless you want the whole bar hearing us," Marty said through clenched teeth. "Second, I don't need to remind you of what you were doing, so you're not gonna guilt me over this."

Raul barked a single, clipped laugh. "Is that why you insisted on meeting us here? So you could tell me that to my face? 'Cause that's sure not the tune you were singing when you finally got your cut. Tell me, just how expensive was that coat you got your girl?"

Finnick didn't hear any response from Marty, though he did hear the sound of creaking, battered leather as someone stood up.

"What are you doing?" Raul asked after a moment.

"Smell something," Beth replied, her voice a low rumble. Finnick could feel it in his bones.

"No, nothing, though I don't know how you can smell anything over your breath. How many plates of that tofu crap did you order?" Raul replied.

"Shut up, I'm busy," she said flatly and began walking in Finnick's direction.

Finnick was sure that she wouldn't get the opportunity to kill him, since his heart seemed interested in giving him a heart attack at the rate it was beating. He took in a deep breath through his nose and held it. The heavy footfalls of hyena paws may have well been thunder as they echoed off the floor and to his ears. In moments, he saw Beth's sturdy legs outside the booth he was hiding in, turning back toward her partner.

"What, you think someone is listening to us?" Raul asked. "You're bein' paranoid."

She let out a low growl. "It's my job. Didn't smell them before, but I can smell them now," she said, slowly advancing down the aisle.

Back at their table, Nick peered over the top of the booth, keeping a watchful eye on the group. His heart sank when he saw Beth get up and start walking down past each table, her snout in the air. He swore he could see her sniffing around. His paws went to his head, tugging on his ears. "No, nonono," he mumbled to himself. "Don't find him, you can't find him, he's too small, too smart for you to find him." He saw her do one pass of their aisle before he'd seen enough, and ran to the end of his. Please don't make me do this. He's gonna be fine, he has to be fine, he thought. He got on the balls of his feet, ready to sprint up and try to snatch Finnick in case he was discovered. His paws were shaking, and he hugged himself to try to get them to stop. They wouldn't.

Finnick's chest was getting tight as his tiny lungs began to run out of air. He put a paw over his mouth to keep himself still.

"Ah, whatever, your drink is getting warm, so it's no skin off my nose," Raul shrugged, and turned back to Marty. "Look, you're in just as deep as we are now, so don't get any funny ideas about backing out," he said. "And Marty, c'mon cousin, it's a victimless crime! Just some money here, a few bills there, it's no big thing!"

"That's not what the word on the street is," Marty mumbled. "I… heard about that ewe and ram that got sent to the hospital. Is that how you work, Raul? Just ruin the lives of everyone who gets in your way?"

Finnick's chest was nearly seizing when he heard Beth's footsteps on the other side of the aisle. He allowed himself to take in a small breath through his nose, exhaling as gently as possible. This had better be worth it for him, or I'm gonna kick his ass in the afterlife, he thought, staring at the pen, struggling to control his breathing.

"Marty, you'd do best not to believe everything you hear. Besides, victimless is just a turn of phrase. After all, was it victimless when you turned in your own cousin, your own family for a minor offense?" Raul asked.

"Minor? You nearly killed that guy, Raul!" he exclaimed loud enough that Finnick knew he wasn't the only one that heard. Several patrons turned toward their booth, staring at the two boars before returning to their drinks and games. Raul seethed at his cousin.

"I'm gonna politely ask you to lower your voice," he said, barely concealing a growl. "And let me make this crystal clear, cousin. You're in deep, now. We can bust your ass for telling us where you guys are patrolling with a simple anonymous tip at any time, but us? We can go underground, and no one will even know where to look. So you better just keep playing along, or you might run into some problems."

Finnick forced himself to be still when Beth's feet reappeared outside the table he was hiding under. "I don't get it, I swear I could smell someone around here," she said, crouching down. She peered under the booth opposite Finnick. His heart nearly stopped, and he prayed that either God wouldn't curse him with the most inopportune phone call in history, or that he'd silenced his phone. "Ugh, these floors are nasty," she muttered, standing up. "Whatever, I don't wanna hear any lip from you, piggy. I just know there's someone else here."

"I told you, Beth, you're just bein' paranoid, which don't get me wrong, I appreciate you doin' your job. But just chill out a bit. You're getting on my nerves," Raul said.

Beth huffed and walked back to the booth. "You'll wish you didn't say that when we get blackmailed or something 'cause someone was listening in while you blabbed your whole scheme, dumbass" she retorted.

"Relax, I ain't said shit," he said. "So, Marty, can I expect you to keep up what you've been doin' for us? Or am I gonna have to play the bad cousin?"

Finnick took in a few steady breaths and held the pen out as close to the edge of the booth as he could. All he heard for several moments was the music and conversation of the bar around him before Marty spoke up again. "I… you don't… s-sure, Raul," he sighed. "I'll keep giving you guys the heads up about the patrols."

Finnick couldn't see his face, but he swore he'd never heard another mammal sound so defeated, not even Nick while they were driving to the bar.

"I'm happy to hear that, cousin," Raul replied. "And we've got a pickup in three days, so make sure you get us the information before then, got it?"

He didn't hear any response, but judging from the lack of outrage from Raul, he assumed that Marty just nodded in agreement.

"Good! Now we can get back to enjoying the night," Raul said. Footsteps were getting increasingly closer to their booth. Finnick assumed it was Thomas getting back from the bathroom, and was certain of it when he heard the owner of the footsteps sit down in the booth.

"Man, you guys do not wanna go to this dump's bathrooms," he said. "Probably hasn't been cleaned in years."
"Ew, Thomas, c'mon, I'm right here," Beth replied. "I know I'm six feet tall with junk bigger than all of you combined, but I'm still a lady."

"C'mon, Beth, don't bring up that , ugh, stuff at the table, I'm trying to eat over here," Raul whined. Finnick rolled his eyes. These guys have to be the most obnoxious criminals I've ever seen. His thoughts flickered to Nick and Duke Weaselton. Nah, still the most obnoxious.

He clicked the pen off gently, but didn't dare pop his head out from under the table for fear that the otter would notice him.

"What, you got a problem with my biology?" she asked, emphasizing every syllable of the word biology. "Or maybe you're just insecure 'cause a lady's got parts that would put yours to shame, huh?"

Finnick assumed the sputtering was Thomas or Marty nearly choking on their drink. There wasn't a reply from Raul.

He shut his eyes and lay his head back against the bench. Maybe I'll just die here listening to these assholes. He remained in that position for several moments.

Before Raul could muster up a retort to the attack on his masculinity, everyone overheard a commotion from over near the pool tables. The exact source of the yelling was unclear, but he could make out something about spilled beer and moving pool balls.

"Damn, what the hell's happening over there?" Raul asked. Finnick heard the seats creak as they group stood up. The unmistakeable sound of a fist hitting someone's face, followed by someone falling on the ground filled the bar. "Hah, looks like those wolves aren't too happy with each other."

The conversation at the table ground to a halt, and he could feel Beth getting out of her seat as her nails clacked against the floor.

"Where are you going?" Marty hissed. Finnick was certain she was headed toward the brawl.

"I like fighting. I'm a simple lady, cut me some slack," she replied. Finnick winced as she cracked her knuckles.

"This ought to be interesting," Raul said with a laugh. Judging by the way the seat was whining, Finnick was certain Raul was standing on top of the booth.

Thomas groaned. "Dammit, not again."

Finnick knew this was the distraction he'd prayed for, and after taking in a deep breath, he put the pen between his teeth and took off from under the booth on all fours. He knew he couldn't risk looking back, but he hoped a bar fight and a hyena knocking out a few mammals was enough to keep their attention for long enough that he could escape. His lungs burned, struggling to take in decent breaths after being so strained under the table, but he forced himself to keep running as quickly as his legs would take him.

Nick sat at the end of his aisle, chewing on the claws on one of his paws. He was just about to make his way over to Raul's and Marty's aisle when a very frantic Finnick dashed toward him on all fours, the pen in his teeth. He nearly crashed into him, sliding to a stop just inches before hitting Nick. He spit the pen out, panting heavily as he rested a paw on Nick's shoulder.

"You… owe… me so big," he wheezed, collapsing on the floor.


"You know, you didn't have to drive me back, I could have gotten a cab," Judy said as she unbuckled her seatbelt. The clock in his car blinked 10:24 at her. Geez, was I really out that long? she thought. If Nick found out how long I was at the restaurant with Cam, I bet he'd get so jealous. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she could feel tingly little pricks in her chest. Try as she might, she couldn't keep her tail from twitching either.

"Oh, don't mention it, Judy, it was the least I could do," Cam said. "After all, what kind of gentleman would I be if I made you grab a cab after our date."

"W-wait, I thought you said this wasn't a date?" Judy asked. The fur on the back of the neck stood up on end. Cam couldn't help but snicker at her lack of composure. "Officer Hopps, for a standout member of the ZPD, I have to say that you're too easy," he laughed, much to Judy's chagrin.

"Watch it, mister, or just maybe I won't pass your number along to the cute lynx from the bakery I go to all the time," she replied, dipping into her extra reserves of sass.

"Hey, now c'mon, that's not fa- wait, cute lynx? You think the lynx from the bakery you like is cute? Please, do go on," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Wha- no, t-that's not what I meant," she stuttered.

"Like I said, too easy," he replied. "Although, uh, if the lynx is as cute as you say, you're not actually gonna not give her my number, right?" She turned to look at him, only to notice now his nose was twitching ever so slightly.

A grin spread across her face that would have made Nick proud. "Now who's easy, huh Mr. Cotton?" she asked. That earned an eye roll from Cam.

"Har-har. Although, I suppose I deserved that," he replied with a laugh.

"Hey, uh, Cam? At the restaurant, you mentioned Nick seemed jealous. Did he happen to say why?" she asked. Her eyes were wide in the darkness of the car as she looked at him, the eagerness in her face not hard to find.

"Hmm? Oh, well, no, he didn't mention anything specifically," Cam replied. Judy's ears sank a bit before he spoke again. "Although, Officer Hopps, I can't think of many reasons that one male would be jealous of another male taking his friend out for dinner. It seems a bit obvious to me."

"Really? O-obvious, huh?" she asked. "What do you think it is, then?"

"C'mon, Judy, you're a cop," he replied, shaking his head and smiling. "I think you can figure it out."

She nodded simply before opening the car door and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

"Oh, don't want to forget this," Cam said, grabbing her phone out of the seat. He reached over and handed it to her. "Look, if you're worried about Mr. Accusations, just text him and say goodnight or something. That way, he'll know you were thinking of him even on our 'date.'"

"That's… actually not a bad idea," she said. "Also, 'Mr. Accusations?' What are you, twelve years old?"

That earned a scowl from Cam. "Hey, I got top marks at school in grammar and story composition, not coming up with insults," he grumbled.

"Well, it shows," she replied, sticking out her tongue.

"Man, I must be really out of practice," he said. "Normally I don't get beaten in banter this easily."

"Or maybe, you just found your match and you didn't even realize it. Did you ever consider that?"

"I have to say, the thought crossed my mind a few times," he said. "Well, thank you for accompanying me to dinner, and I'll try to get you that information by Saturday."

"Oh, right. Thanks, Cam, I really appreciate it, and I know Nick does too, even if he has a hard time showing it," she replied.

"I'll have to take your word on that," he chuckled. He turned his keys in the ignition and started the engine. "And seriously, you sound worried about Nick. Take it from someone whose job is 90 percent talking to other mammals, one measly text usually goes a long way," he said.

She just nodded, slipping the phone into her pocket. "I'll talk to you later," she said, waving to him.

He gave a little salute before pulling away into the street, leaving her on the sidewalk with a head full of questions and a very heavy weight in her pocket. She turned back toward her apartment building and headed inside. The drab, peeling floral wallpaper greeted her with their usual curled welcome. She flicked one particularly long piece that had curled up tight, uncoiling it and watching it snap back into position. The urge to rip it off the wall always lingered as she walked past it. She figured after one particularly bad day at work, she'd walk past and tear it off only to regret it deeply in the following days.

She trudged up the stairs as a bout of exhaustion suddenly hopped on her shoulders for a piggy-back ride. She could hear Bucky and Pronk loudly debating something, although what it was, she wasn't quite sure. Their conversation became clearer as she fumbled with the key at her door.

"You were staring at her, just admit it!" Pronk said. "You don't have anything to hide, I caught you red-hooved!"

"I wasn't ogling her, I swear!" Bucky replied. "I mean yeah, she's got some cute fluff, but that's it!"

"Oh, so now you're noticing her fluff? You're unbelievable!"

"No, babe, I was just saying that in the interest of honesty! I swear, I'd never ogle anyone but you!"

Judy rolled her eyes at the lovers quarrel and collapsed on her bed. She knew if she let herself lay there, she'd fall asleep in her clothes, but she wasn't sure if she cared enough to actually get dressed for bed. She pulled out her phone; the background as a photo of her and Nick positively beaming the day of Nick's graduation from the Academy. Immediately, the tingly, prickly sensation returned to her chest, and the word 'jealous' flickered in her head in bright green neon. The same color as that stupid tie, she thought. And his eyes, come to think of it. They're so green, like, Rainforest District green.

She swiped to her text messages. The only ones she'd sent in the last several months were to Nick, her parents, Cam, and occasionally Clawhauser, although he usually made her phone blow up so much that it ate through her data like he did with a box of doughnuts. She opened Nick's tab. The message bar was empty, taunting her to type something in.

C'mon, Judy, you're a cop. I think you can figure it out.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what exactly she even wanted to say. "Ugh, what am I doing, he's my best friend, I can send a stupid text to him," she mumbled to herself. Bucky and Pronk had quieted their yelling, though the silence was nearly unsettling.

Hey Nick, just thought I'd check in. Hope you had a good night! Cam said he could help with the case, and don't worry, it wasn't a date.

She stared at her screen for several seconds shutting her eyes and deleting the whole thing.

Nick, just wanted to see how your night went. I was thinking about you at the restaurant a lot. Just wanted to say goodnight to my partner.

A quick read-through caused another mass delete. She threw a paw over her eyes and sighed. "Why is this so hard," she whined, taking her arm off her head to have another go at it.

Why didn't you just tell me you were jealous, you dumb fox? All you had to do was say something. I sort of like it.

That earned the fastest delete of the three. Judy could feel her tail wanting to twitch underneath her. "No, shush you, I don't want your input," she said.

"Hey Fluff, who're you talkin' to?" Bucky called out from beyond the wall.

"No one, Bucky, just mumbling to myself," she replied.

"You know, they say talking to yourself is one of the biggest signs that you're crazy," Pronk said.

"I'll take that into consideration, Pronk, thank you," she called out.

"What do you mean, 'crazy?' I talk to myself, are you calling me crazy?" Bucky asked, his voice rising.

Judy rolled her eyes and did her best to ignore the ensuing, pointless argument. The screen mocked her from behind the glass, the last text Nick had sent her staring her in the face.

Sounds good, Carrots. I'll see you in a few.

She took a deep breath, and her thumbs returned to her keyboard.

Hey, how was your night? Dinner was pretty good, and I think you'd like the restaurant. We should go sometime after work. Just wanted to say goodnight.

The words shone brightly in her face, dimming after she reviewed the message for several moments. She sighed and hit enter. Within moments, a little indicator showed that it was sent, though it hadn't been opened by him just yet. She kept her eyes on the message, waiting for the notification to pop up that it had been seen, but it wasn't coming. Oh well, he'll see it later tonight. I hope his night went well. The need for sleep wafted over her. Slowly, she drifted away, a debate raging in her head over what to call the exact shade of green of Nick's eyes.


Nick tried to help his friend up, but Finnick shook a paw at him. "I… got this… don't worry," he said, slowly lifting himself back onto his feet.

Nick grabbed the pen and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. "What do you say we get you some water, huh big guy?" he asked, offering a paw. Finnick swatted it away, but after a few moments of panting heavily, begrudgingly accepted it as they walked back to their booth. They both sat down, Finnick reaching for his refilled glass, taking in several large mouthfuls of water before setting it down with a sigh.

"So, uh, how did it go?" Nick asked. He was fiddling with his fingers, and Finnick noticed his ears twitching slightly.

"Oh, you know," he began. "The hyena almost found me under the nasty-ass table I was cowerin' under. If she had, the only chance you'd get to have this conversation with me is in heaven after she beat both our asses for spyin' on 'em. But yeah, it went alright."

Nick's face went from concern to amusement in an instant. "Wait, what makes you so sure you're going to heaven? I mean, I've turned over a new leaf as an officer of the law, so of course I'm going," he said, cocking his eyebrow.

"Man, I'm a regular saint, and don't go actin' like you don't know it," he replied, taking another sip from his drink. "After all, I'm pretty sure that stunt I just pulled counts as at least two dozen good deeds or something."

"That's a pretty fair assessment," Nick laughed. "But, uh, did they say anything, you know, incriminating? Or did I send my friend nearly to his death for nothing?"

"I don't know, genius, you've got the pen," he replied. "Why don't you go and check for yourself?"

"Oh yeah, you're right," he said, reaching into his pocket. Finnick rolled his eyes. "I should probably listen to this anyway to double check that we got something good, otherwise I'll have to send you over there again," Nick said.

Finnick nearly choked on his drink. "If you think I'm goin' back over there again-" he sputtered, but was interrupted by Nick, who held up a paw.

"Relax, I'm kidding! Man, you've gotten too easy, my friend," he said. He clicked the play button on the pen and set it on the table. The general drone of the bar was in the background, but Nick could make out what Raul and Marty were saying. It wasn't the clearest audio in the world, but it would definitely do. He listened to the recording for a few more minutes while Finnick caught his breath and finished his water.

"Wait, he said something about a pickup or something three days from now?" Nick asked as the recording shut off.

"Yeah, I guess so, why?" Finnick asked.

"Because, not only does all that other stuff prove that Marty is the mole, but that means we have a chance to corner these guys all in one motion," he said.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure Marty is a boar, Nick, not a mole. C'mon, man, I thought cops were supposed to be observant or something," Finnick replied, a smug grin adorning his muzzle as he reached for a handful of pretzels.

Nick scowled at him. "Really? Puns at at time like this? I'd expect this crap from Carrots, but you too, Finn?"

Finnick shrugged. "What can I say, I'm pretty sure I'm still a little drunk," he replied. "At least, I have to be to have agreed to all this crap."

"Well, in any case, this should work perfectly," Nick said.

"Yeah, and you best be appreciating it, too," he replied. "Don't go tellin' anyone, but I ain't been that scared since that one car chase we were in."

"Wait, you were scared during that?" he asked. "I never knew you were such a baby. You know I still have that stroller, if you want it."

Finnick struggled and failed to hold back a cackle. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I remember you screamin' like a little girl in the passenger seat, so you weren't helpin' anything," he replied. "So don't go gettin' all high and mighty on me, Nicky."

Nick's grin immediately soured into a scowl. "We have talked about the use of that nickname, Pequeño, so I suggest you don't say it again," he said. The use of Finnick's childhood nickname earned a snarl from his big-eared friend.

"I swear, I will personally beat your ass with my mother's frying pan if you call me that name again," Finnick growled.

"So, you're saying we're even, then," he replied. "You don't call me that name, and I won't call you Peque- er, that other name, deal?"

Finnick glowered at him, but turned his head after a few moments and nodded. "Yeah, whatever," he said. "So, uh, how exactly are we gonna get out of here, anyway?"

Nick was about to reply when Betty returned to their table. "Huh, you boys still here? At first I thought you went to the bathroom, but you were gone so long I was worried you'd dined and dashed on me," she said, topping off their glasses with fresh water.

"C'mon, girl, you know I'd never do that to you," Finnick replied.

"I'm just happy to know that I'm still getting a tip after all this," she laughed.

"Hey, Betty," Nick began. "You seen those mammals at that other table in here before? The boars, hyena, and otter?"

She squinted over in the direction of Marty's table. "No, I haven't, though we don't get many newcomers. Why do ya ask?"

"Oh, uh, no reason. Thought I recognized them from somewhere, didn't know if you knew who they were," he replied.

"Well, you can ask them yourselves. Looks like they're coming over this way," she said, before turning to head back to the kitchen.

Nick and Finnick both froze. Nick popped his head over the top of the booth and saw that Betty wasn't lying; Raul, Marty, Beth, and Thomas were all getting up from their booth and looked to be headed in their direction. His fur stood up on end, and he frantically turned back to Finnick. "We have to get out of here, like, right now," he said.

He ran up to Betty before she walked away. "Betty, you gotta let us out through the kitchen," Nick pleaded. His paws were clasped together, and he was nearly on his knees begging in front of Betty. "Those guys have it out for me and Finnick. We have to leave, like, right now, please."

The ocelot's eyes darted from Nick, to Finnick, to the approaching group. Beth had bumped into a deer that was coming back from the restroom, and the group halted.

"Didn't you see me walkin' here?" she bellowed. "Or did you miss what those two wolves faces looked like after I was through with 'em?" Nick had to give the young buck credit for not pissing his pants right then and there, though the way he threw his hooves up in pleading cowardice wasn't doing any him any favors.

"C'mon, Betty, now's our chance," Finnick said. "We seriously gotta get out of here."

Betty crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Finnick. "Well, I guess that depends on what y'all were plannin' on tippin' me tonight, don't you think?" she asked.

Finnick threw his arms up in the air and grimaced. "Aw, don't be like that, Betty, don't do us like that. What have we ever done to deserve this?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about the $160 tab you've rung up on me and still haven't paid?" she asked, her paws not placed defiantly on her hips. "I'd say at least a $50 tip should be a good start, though you're gonna have to pay that tab eventually, little man."

Nick sighed and dug his wallet out. "Fine, a $50 tip? Sure, whatever, we just need to leave."

"No, hold up man, I ain't lettin' her fleece us out of that cash," Finnick said, pushing Nick's wallet back into his paws. "Now look, Betty, you're a sweet lady, but you got another thing comin' if you think you can hustle money out of me."

"Are we seriously doing this right now?" Nick half whispered, half screamed at him. "We are about to be made into paste by a furious mutant hyena, and you're complaining about $50?"

"Eh, I think it just became $75," Betty said with a grin, her stare never leaving Finnick's eyes.

"Okay, now I know you lost your damn mind," Finnick said. "What are you lookin' to do, rob your customers? Is this the kind of establishment this is?"

"Hell yes this is that kind of establishment, and don't act like you didn't already know that," Betty retorted. "Now I been nice to you, Finny, but your tab is startin' to collect interest. Now's the time to pay up."

Nick snapped his head around to figure out where Marty's group was.

"Yeah, and you better run, Bambi!" Beth shouted at the deer, who scampered away from the cackling hyena, mostly likely a black eye for his trouble. Nick cringed as the bar was momentarily filled with the unmistakable sound of spotted hyena laughter.

"B-beth, was that really necessary?" Marty asked.

"Honey, beating the hell out of pathetic prey like that is always necessary," she giggled as girlishly as a hyena could.

The group looked to be heading back in their direction after dealing with the buck. Wheeling back around, Finnick and Betty were still in an apparent staring contest, with neither party willing to back down.

"Holy shit, we do not have time for this," he growled, taking all the bills out of his wallet and shoving them into Betty's paws. "Take it, whatever. Finnick will pay his tab tomorrow, but right now we. have. to. go." Grabbing Finnick's wrist, he barreled toward the kitchen door.

Betty just stood, counting the thin stack of cash in her hand. "Hmm, $68," she called out. "I guess it'll have to do. Sure was nice serving you boys, y'all come back anytime."

As Nick and Finnick ran through the kitchen, earning some well-deserved curse words from the chefs, Beth and Raul approached Betty. "Hey, kitty cat," Beth called out. "How much to use the pool tables?"

"Five bucks for an hour, sugar," she replied, stuffing the cash into her back pocket. "I can get you guys suited up with some cues if you'd like."

Outside, Nick fell to the ground on his butt, panting. "I can't- you- that was almost the dumbest thing you've ever done," he said. Finnick simply shrugged. "Hey, she gave good service, but no one hustles money out of me."

"Yeah, especially when you're splattered all over the wall because a hyena found out your friends with a cop," he retorted. "Whatever, let's just get back to the van."

It had started to drizzle lightly, and the two walked as quickly as they could while still maintaining some semblance of composure to Finnick's van.

"I'm just saying, I probably could have taken her," Finnick said as he started up the engine.

"Oh, right, taken her right to a tasty dinner because I'm pretty sure she'd have eaten you whole," he replied.

"Nah, you're not seein' it," he said. "I'm too small and agile for her. She's so big and bulky, by the time she knows what hit her, I'd be scratchin' out her eyes." He furiously pawed at the air in front of him for effect. Nick struggled to hold back laughter.

"I'm, uh, pretty sure you've still got plenty of alcohol in you if you think you could have even gotten a paw on her," he replied. "Actually, are you good to drive?"

"Yeah, man, don't worry about it," Finnick said, peeling out of the parking lot. The roads were fairly empty by this point in the night, meaning Finnick's occasional weave over the dividing line didn't cause too much trouble, save for nearly stopping Nick's heart once or twice. To his credit, Nick had to admit that tipsy Finnick's driving was barely worse than sober Finnick, though that wasn't saying much.

Although they ended up running one stop sign, they made it back to Nick's apartment in short order. "Hey, you want to just crash here?" Nick offered. "It'd save you the trouble of driving back."

"Nah, I'm good, man, thanks though," he replied. "I got the mattress in the back, so it's all good."

Nick shrugged. "Whatever you say, chief," he said. He unbuckled himself and stepped out into the rain.

"Yo, before you go," Finnick began. "Don't forget about what I said about that bunny. There ain't nothin' wrong with you wantin' her, and you're gonna keep gettin' all sad and mopey if you don't tell her."

Nick wanted to reply, but his voice caught in his throat. "I… yeah, thanks, man. Appreciate the talk," he mumbled, rain sliding down his fur on his face and dripping off his nose. He knew he wanted to shiver, but his body wouldn't let him.

Finnick waved him off. "Least I could do for you, besides, you're no fun to drink with when you're all pathetic and stuff." Nick closed the door, and Finnick gave him a peace sign through the window before pulling out and driving away.

Nick jogged inside to get out of the chilly rain, shaking himself off a bit once he was in the lobby. He pulled out his phone as he walked up the stairs and saw he had a text message from Judy. He simply stared at the notification the whole way up to his door. His eyes never left the notification as one paw fumbled with his keys, trying to open up to head inside. He stood in his doorway, dripping onto the floor when he opened it.

Hey, how was your night? Dinner was pretty good, and I think you'd like the restaurant. We should go sometime after work. Just wanted to say goodnight.

"We should go sometime after work," he muttered to himself. His shirt and slacks were quickly discarded and thrown onto the floor. He slinked into bed, throwing the covers onto himself haphazardly. As he lay on his back, the phone's screen stared back at him, proudly displaying Judy's message. The urge to type back nagged away in the back of his head, his thumbs precariously hovering over his keyboard.

Sounds good, Carrots. Pick the time and date and I'll be there. Night.

His pupils traced every character before hitting send. A tiny smile broke out on his muzzle, but he couldn't exactly place why. He felt the urge to second-guess his text, maybe figure out a better way to convey what he wanted, but both mini and real Finnick flashed in his mind, and he fought the urge down.

Instead of straw, his bed felt more akin to pine needles tonight. At least that's an improvement, he thought. His chest felt a little tight as he stared at her text one last time before plugging in his phone and setting it on his nightstand. The alcohol remaining in his system began to sit heavy in his head, and he counted little grey cotton tails bouncing over a fence as sleep claimed him for the night.