10
It took Nick a while to realize that he didn't know where he was. But even when he finally did realize it, he found that it didn't matter.
Beneath his feet was a glossy redwood floor, above him a single beam of light, it's source unknown. The rest of the ceiling was a blanket of black. If there were walls, they were hidden somewhere in the darkness where the light couldn't reach.
Music echoed around him, some pop track that Finnick wouldn't be caught dead listening to. The sound was muffled and tinny, the lyrics unintelligible, either from distance or poor speakers or both.
But none if it mattered. Not the place—or lack of knowledge thereof—and certainly not the music.
Because Judy was in his arms, and they were dancing.
They flowed across the polished floor in perfect sync, just like they had that night at the bar. Only this time there was no one to get in their way or interrupt their steps. No one to ruin the moment with obnoxious questions and too-straight ears.
They danced in and out of the light, sometimes skirting its edges, other times cutting straight through the middle of it, like a spotlight made just for them.
At one point, Nick swung Judy around in a spin that took them both by surprise. It swept them out into the darkness like an undertow made of air, and for a few thrilling seconds they danced their way along, blind and searching, their grips on each other a little tighter, their breathing a little faster, before they both broke at the same time and pulled each other back into the light.
Their pace slowed then. Their steps, now sure, became lighter. They looked at each other and laughed and the question was in both their eyes—again?—and so they did, plunging back into the darkness for another exhilarating turn.
Nick didn't know how long they danced. No one ever came to tell them it was time to go and the music never stopped its catchy tune. But his feet didn't tire and Judy stayed with him step for step. Sometimes she led him, other times he led her. Not a battle of wills, but an alliance.
Judy spun away from him, the tips of her ears dipping into the shadows, the sequins of her red dress sparkling like flecks of ruby. She was spirited and sweet and fierce in her joy, and Nick could only stare, dazzled.
She smiled at him, a sly, knowing thing, and twirled back into his arms, and for a beat Nick simply held her there against him, savoring the moment and the fact that the fear he usually felt when they got this close was absent for once. He felt safe here, in this place that had no eyes to judge them. Where he didn't have to worry about the answers Judy gave him.
She looked up at him from under her long lashes, her eyes a darker shade of violet than he could ever remember them being. Her lips were slightly parted, revealing the blunt tips of her endearingly oversized front teeth.
"Wow," she said, her voice echoing in the empty space, and Nick agreed. Wow felt like the accurate word for it.
"You are one hot dancer, Nicholas Wilde."
Nick smiled and pulled her closer, gratified when she melted against him. "You're not so bad yourself, Carrots."
She plucked at a button on his suit. "I'm impressed."
"Well I was number one in my dance class. Not to brag or anything."
One tiny paw slid up, ghosting over his collar and catching him by the back of the neck. It was impossible to misunderstand what she was angling for, and Nick was only too happy to let her pull him down to her level. "You. Are. One. Hot. Dancer. Nicholas Wilde."
"I really must be if it makes you repeat yourself," teased Nick. He could feel her breath against his cheek, and he wondered if he should give up the game and turn his head, or if he should stretch the moment out a little more and torture them both.
"I'm impressed." Her voice warbled, like a song skipping on its track, and Nick felt a pinprick of foreboding, like a needle between his shoulder blades.
He tipped his head, just enough to look at her. Judy's arms were frozen around his neck, those giant eyes staring at him, unblinking.
Nick frowned down at her. "Carrots?"
"You are one hot dancer, Nicholas Wilde."
"Hopps? What's—"
The music stuttered and then restarted. Still the same pop tune. The light blinked-blinked above him and when Nick looked up, for a moment he saw a ceiling superimposed over the empty blackness, with harsh lighting and cheap plastic curtains. The kind that came on rails and were used to give a patient the illusion of privacy. He had seen curtains like those somewhere just recently…
"Wow." Judy was still standing there, head tilted as if remaining prepared for his kiss. She hadn't followed his gaze or reacted at all to the weird ceiling that was blink-blinking in and out of existence. "I'm impressed."
But she didn't sound impressed. Her voice had all the inflection of a cheap computer program, now that he listened closer. The pitch was off and the words were garbled. When she spoke, her lips didn't even move.
"You are one hot dancer, Claw-Hauser."
Nick flinched, breaking away from the embrace, and Judy let him go, unresisting. Above them, the light flickered again. Blink-blink.
"Officer Wilde?"
"I'm impressed."
"You awake?"
"Wow."
The words echoed off the nonexistent walls, overlapping into a cacophonic mess of sound and Nick tried to cover his ears, but he couldn't seem to lift his arms up enough to manage it.
"Carrots?" he said, but Judy was gone now, and in her place was Clawhauser, wearing a pair of skimpy shorts. The kind favored by Gazelle's backup dancers. His big spotted belly overflowed from the garment's waistband.
"Officer Wilde?"
Nick lurched back into consciousness with a strangled shout. Clawhauser, who had been peering down at Nick in concern, flailed backwards in surprise. "Oh my goodness."
Nick gripped the cold metal railing of his bed and struggled to orientate himself. He was in a semi-private hospital room. A half-pulled curtain partly hid another bed next to his own, but it was empty and didn't look like it had been used recently. There was a roll away table and a matching chair to Clawhauser's over by the window, where one had a lovely view of an overcast parking lot.
And still, the pop song from his dreams kept playing.
Clawhauser—fully dressed, thank goodness—was clutching his phone in front of him like he feared Nick might have gone feral and might need to use the device as a shield. On the screen, Gazelle bopped along on stage with a tiger back-up dancer that had Clawhauser's face superimposed overtop the other feline's.
Nick groaned and closed his eyes. "Turn it off."
"Huh?"
"That app. Turn it off, for the love of blueberries."
"Oh. Sure. Sorry."
The music cut off, leaving them for a moment in blissful silence.
Then, "How are you feeling?"
"Where—" Nick's voice cracked. He felt like he had inhaled a desert. He wanted a drink, but the cup and pitcher next to his bed were both empty.
"Hospital," Clawhauser answered promptly, and way too cheerfully in Nick's opinion. "Oh, but don't worry! I was told to assure you that you are going to be completely fine! The tranquilizer dart you were shot with was a simple blend of… well…" The cheetah scratched at his chin with a sheepish smile. "I can't quite remember the medical terms for them. Sorry, they all had really long names. But let's just say it was like you took a few too many happy pills. That's how Officer Hopps explained it to me, anyway."
Judy.
Nick cracked one eye open to take in the room again, thinking he had missed seeing her there somehow. But no, it was just him and Clawhauser.
Nick tried very hard not to feel disappointed.
"I was told to make you stay here and rest for as long as I could," said Clawhauser, dropping back into his seat by the bed. "Which Officer Hopps admitted would probably not be very long."
"Where is Carrots?"
"Oh, she's been bouncing in and out of here all morning," said Clawhauser. "Checking up on you and then scurrying back out. I expect she'll be in again soon. Should I call her?"
"No. I'm sure she's busy."
"You missed breakfast." The cheetah gave him this news in the same grave tone he might've used to tell Nick, they couldn't save the tail. "But I'll let the nurse know you're awake and maybe they can get you some lunch, huh?"
Nick didn't want lunch; he wanted out of here. He wanted to know where Judy was, what she was doing, and what he needed to be doing in order to help her. It certainly wasn't lying around in this bed, as much as he would have enjoyed a lazy day off.
He thought back to last night, but his memories turned fuzzy after being shot. He vaguely recalled Judy telling him that Ray had gotten away. And by her crestfallen expression, he thought it was safe to assume that the raccoon had taken the Corsacs with him. But the rest was a blur of hazy impressions and the sensation of overwhelming heat. Nick usually didn't mind the desert. Had spent quite a bit of time there over the years, as a matter of fact. But being that close to the climate wall had been a grueling experience, even for him.
No wonder he was so thirsty.
Clawhauser buzzed for the day nurse, who turned out to be a sheep with tiny eyes and a full-body shearing job that had Nick doing a double-take.
"What do they call this kind of style?" he asked him. "The sanitation cut?"
Those tiny eyes narrowed at him. "Swim team."
"Well it certainly brings out your… bones. Very slimming."
Clawhauser made a very feline ack noise in the back of his throat and popped out of his chair.
"Please don't mind him," he said, shoving Nick back against the pillows and pinning him there when he tried to rise back up. "He was drugged last night. It was very traumatic for him."
A dismissive bah was the nurse's only response.
Nick submitted to a check up without a fuss, but drew the line at staying the rest of the day.
"At least let them bring you lunch," pleaded Clawhauser. But Nick was already reaching for his clothes.
"No lunch. Just the discharge papers, please."
The nurse acquiesced without argument—or much in the way of caring. This suited Nick perfectly but had Clawhauser fretting.
"What will Officer Hopps say?"
"Carrots isn't here to say anything," said Nick, and then had to clench his jaw as the reminder struck him with a bolt of hurt. Was he really going to be such a needy kit about this? It was embarrassing, and so not something a cool fox like him should be bothered by. So what if he had stayed with her in her time of need. She had important things to do. More important things than sitting around in this depressing hospital room watching Nick sleep. There were criminals to track down... Other foxes to save... fancy-schmancy bunnies to go interview... probably.
Nick stopped halfway through buttoning his shirt. "Wait. This wasn't what I was wearing last night."
"Huh? Oh, Hopps brought that for you this morning on one of her visits," said Clawhauser. "Said it would be too cruel to make you wear your other clothes again. I guess she thought they were too dirty or something."
"Judy did?" Nick look down at the blue button-up, which was mercifully free of both ZPD advertising and their boss's face. It wasn't that the action itself was surprising—his partner had alway been disgustingly thoughtful—but how far it went in making him feel better. Stupid to be so happy about it. Dangerous, too. But knowing that it was stupid and dangerous didn't stop his hurt from dissipating.
"This is my third ruined shirt in two days," he told Clawhauser as he finished getting dressed. "The ZPD should start insuring my wardrobe."
"Why do I feel like there's a con in there somewhere?"
Nick's head shot up. Judy had slipped into the room sometime while his back had been turned. Their gazes met and there was a silent apology in her eyes.
And just like that, Nick forgave her.
"That's because you've been hanging around me too long," he said to her. "And what's the deal with you suddenly watching me change all the time? Are we going to have to talk about boundaries, Fluff?"
Clawhauser's eyes stretched to elephant-saucer size. Judy just raised an eyebrow, parrying, "Said the fox who took me to a naturalist club."
Nick winked. "That was just part of the Zootopian experience."
"I'd hate to find out what the rest of the experience entails."
"Scared, rabbit?"
"I… should I go?" asked Clawhauser.
Judy shot the cheetah an apologetic smile. "No, you're fine, Clawhauser. We'll stop."
She had also changed into fresh clothes, Nick saw. Another uniform, of course. She had an iced fruit drink in one paw and a bag of something delicious smelling in the other.
She held out the drink to Nick. "Thought you might be thirsty," she said. "I know I was."
Nick accepted the cup eagerly. He took a long, deep pull on the straw. The drink was smooth and icy and flavored with extra blueberries. Liquid bliss.
Judy watched him, pursing her lips around a smile. She glanced over at Clawhauser. "So you couldn't keep him in bed any longer, huh?"
The oversized cheetah shook his head. "Sorry."
She patted his paw, the highest part of him she could reach. "That's okay. I expected as much anyway." To Nick, she said, "If you feel okay after finishing that I have some food for you, too."
"Is she the best partner or what?" Nick asked Clawhauser.
Judy's bright smile faltered. Nick looked at her in concern. "Carrots? You okay?"
"Yeah, of course." Her smile returned. But Nick, who knew a thing or two about faking good humor, wasn't fooled.
She started to run a paw over her ears, then winced and dropped her arm. "I don't suppose I can convince you to go get some more rest at home?" she asked him.
Nick tossed his empty cup into the garbage bin and took the food bag from his partner, turning her by the shoulders and nudging her out into the hallway. "I don't supposed you could. Clawhauser, it's been… a morning. You are free to go now."
"If you're sure," said the cheetah.
"Thank you for watching over him for me," said Judy, ignoring Nick's grumbles about it having been unnecessary, and shared a very soft fist bump with the giant cat.
"Anytime, my fluffy friend," said Clawhauser.
Nick followed Judy out to the visitor parking lot, munching on the snack she'd brought him, which turned out to be fried grasshoppers. Delicious.
"So what have you been up to all morning?" he asked as they clambered into the cruiser.
"You mean besides running you your clothes and lunch?"
"Besides that," agreed Nick. "Which this fox is very thankful for, by the way."
"Well, I knew how poorly you work in grimy clothes and on an empty stomach," teased Judy. "It was purely a selfish move on my part."
Nick's lips twitched. "Of course. So, besides that?"
"Besides that, let's see…" Instead of starting the car, Judy leaned back in her seat, ticking things off on her fingers. "My parents called. They're already on their way home. Turns out there's a storm northwest of Zootopia that should reach us by dinnertime. They want to make it back before it hits."
Nick could believe it. The sky was darkening even as they spoke.
"And I went to check on Craven."
Nick could tell by the way her ears drooped that the news wasn't good. "Still no change?"
She shook her head.
"But he hasn't gotten any worse. That's something."
Judy shrugged one shoulder. "I guess."
"Anything else? I assume you would've told me already if there had been any developments in the case," said Nick.
"Nothing developed enough," said Judy. "One weird thing… the report on the illegal burrow came in. Our analysts are saying it wasn't dug by a fox at all, but some kind of lagomorph."
"I think you slipped into tongues there at the end, Carrots. A what now?"
She clutched the steering wheel. "A bunny."
Nick absorbed that. He said only, "Huh."
"And I visited the government offices. Asked around about Mrs. Hopson's will."
"And? Anything?"
"Nothing. Something is fishy there, but it'll take a more detailed investigation than we have time for right now. I talked to Chief Bogo about it, and he agreed to have a team look into it, but it won't help us find the Corsacs."
"Has there been any sign of them?"
"No." Judy's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "There are no good security cameras on those service roads, as you know, so there's no way to track where Ray went that way. The smart money is on Tundratown. There's a connecting tunnel less than a mile from where we were, and what better place to hide a white truck than in a district that's snowbound? Finding it, even with security cameras, will be near to impossible."
"And if he's smart, he's already swapped out the plates or ditched the vehicle entirely," said Nick.
"Exactly," said Judy. "And even if he hasn't, there's still that storm. That means flood watches everywhere and a blizzard for Tundratown. It'll be too dangerous to search during that, which means leaving the Corsacs in the clutches of whoever took them for at least another day."
"I think clutches is a bit melodramatic," said Nick.
Judy closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the seat. "They were taken for a reason, and it can't have been a good one. Every second that we wait is another second that something bad could happen to them. And now we're out of leads, and with this stupid weather—" She broke off, throat working. Her next words came out thick. "It's all my fault."
"Whoa, hey," said Nick. "Time out there, Carrots. This is not your fault. What kind of dumb bunny talk is that?"
"It is my fault." She looked over at him, and Nick was horrified to see tears in her eyes. "I don't know what happened, Nick. But I flinched and he had me."
"You mean Ray?"
"I've caught so many criminals who were bigger than that—that—dumb raccoon. Better fighters too. But I had to fail this time, when three innocent lives were on the line. And now it feels like there's this… invisible clock in my head, ticking down. But all I can hear is the ticking and I have no idea when time is suddenly going to run out and the Corsac's will be—"
"Carrots, hey. Stop it. Calm down." Nick caught Judy by the shoulder, turning her towards him. The poor bunny had been running around all morning, trying to take care of him and save those wayward foxes, all the while trying to battle off all this guilt. And here Nick had been moping because—why? Because she hadn't stayed at the hospital with him? Because she'd left Clawhauser to behind to watch him?
Petty, selfish, fox.
"Listen to me, Carrots. You are not responsible for any of this, ok?" he told her. "That's now how this job works. We don't make the criminals commit the crimes. And we're not responsible when curveballs suddenly get thrown at us. We get a case, and we do our best to solve it and help those we can. But sometimes we fail and that's just how it goes."
"But we never fail," said Judy, and Nick had to smile at that, because she was right. Every case they'd gotten, they had solved. And they had yet to have any victims die on their watch who hadn't already been dead at the initial scene of the crime.
But it was only a matter of time until they got a case that went cold, when there would be victims they couldn't save. Nick wasn't looking forward to it, but he had known and prepared himself before he'd started this job.
Judy, on the other hand… Though he was sure she had done the math and realized the sheer improbability of never failing a case in her career, was determined and optimistic by nature, something that was actually hurting her now that she was being forced to look reality in the eye and admit: they might not win this one.
Nick used to claim enjoyment in watching the disillusionment of others. Something about misery loving company, perhaps. In truth, the satisfaction had always been a bitter one. Now you see what I see, he would think as he watched the hope bleed from the animals eyes. Now you know how I feel. And then he would hurt for them the same way he hurt for his little kit self before he crammed all the emotions down and walked away.
And yeah, the whole thing was entirely unhealthy and twisted, Nick knew that. And he liked to think he was working on it—though on his more cynical days he wondered if he was just happier now, and not so much becoming any better a mammal.
Either way, he took no pleasure in destroying an animal's dreams anymore. And the sight of Judy, his partner and best friend, losing faith like this before his eyes was nothing short of agonizing to watch.
"You're right," said Nick, catching her eye again when her gaze started to fall. "We do never fail. Which says that we are the best at what we do. So if we happen to lose this one—which hasn't happened yet, by the way, rabbit—then that means it was impossible to begin with. Because no one could have done better or tried harder than us."
At least the shameless bragging got a smile out of her.
"But don't count us out just yet, Carrots," Nick told her. "Because this case is far from over."
A tear broke free, wetting the fur of Judy's cheek. "But now the Corsacs are missing. Anything could be happening to them."
"Yes... But considering those darts Ray used weren't fatal, my guess is that even if whoever took the Corsacs are planning to kill them eventually, they must be planning it for a later time. Which gives us time. So hit the snooze on that ticking clock of yours, okay?"
Judy nodded, sniffling.
"You have gone above and beyond on this case," said Nick. "Even getting yourself hurt in the process—or did you think I didn't notice that swollen ear you got there, or the way you winced getting in the car? You have nothing to feel guilty about."
"But I do," said Judy.
Nick huffed. "Do I have to explain this again? The Corsacs are not your responsibility—"
"Not the Corsacs," said Judy. "You."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "Me? Why would you feel guilty about me?"
Her gaze fell to his shoulder, and though there was nothing to see, he knew she was imagining where the dart had struck him.
"You got shot," she whispered, and to his horror, fresh tears appeared in her eyes. "I let you get shot. I mean—what was I thinking? In what biome would that ever be an acceptable idea?"
"Uh, not that I don't like escaping blame when the opening presents itself, but that brilliant plan was all mine," Nick pointed out.
"But I agreed. Partners are supposed to protect each other, even from each others dumb ideas."
"Gee, thanks," drawled Nick.
"You know what I mean."
Nick watched Judy scrub at her face, debating his words.
"Fine. You're right," he said. "Partners are supposed to protect each other. But then I'm guilty too, because I should have thought about how me getting hurt would, uh… upset you."
"Well of course it upsets me!" cried Judy. "Do you think I like seeing you hurt? You're my best friend. I care about you."
Nick rubbed at his neck and looked away, wishing this conversation over and done with. But he had to be honest, because she still looked confused and he owed her the truth. "Sorry, Carrots. I'm still not used to it, I guess. Having someone around who worries." About me, went unspoken. But Judy, the smart bunny, seemed to catch it anyway.
"Dumb fox," she said.
He nodded, allowing that, and let out a surprised, "Ooph," when Judy sprang over the cup holders and attached herself around his neck.
"Uh… Carrots…"
"Be quiet and let me have this," she told him.
His obligatory reluctance over being hugged having been made and rejected, Nick relaxed and folded his arms carefully around her, mindful of the injury to her back, which he was itching to inspect but not at the cost of the moment. He made sure to sigh as he held her, though, lest she think he was doing this for any other reason besides humoring her.
She buried her face in his neck, her tears from earlier dampening his fur. And even though it hurt, Nick tucked the memory away as a reminder of why he couldn't ruin this. Not with his recklessness, not with his abnormal feelings, not with anything.
Outside the overcast day had darkened substantially. Thunder rumbled in the distance. A few fat drops of rain splattered against the roof and windshield like warning shots.
Across the parking lot, Nick spotted a giraffe galloping for his car.
Judy sighed into his fur, and Nick shifted to cover the shiver that ran through him at the sensation. This was no longer just a hug. This was—and Nick could imagine how Finnick would've laughed himself sick over this—this was cuddling.
And Judy clearly knew what she was about, because with a few silent pokes and presses she had shifted him into the prefect position to tuck herself against him, folding her knees and curving her back just so, aligning their bodies for maximum comfort and support, and for Nick it was both heaven and torture in one fluffy-tailed package.
Outside, it began to pour.
Nick gritted his teeth and tried to count sheep. But even the image of former Mayor Bellwether trying to hop over a maximum security fence in an orange jumpsuit again and again wasn't distracting enough.
Judy pressed and curled a paw against his shoulder, a single kneading motion that Nick thought would kill him.
Talking. Words. To engage his brain and get his mind off the tempting bit of fluff resting so contentedly against his front.
He meant to bring up something innocuous, but what spilled out of his mouth instead was, "You've done this before, haven't you?"
She snorted into his ruff. "I have over two hundred siblings and they're all giant cuddlers."
"You miss them."
She nodded. "That's why I have—" But she broke off with a guilty look at his face, and suddenly Nick found the perfect distraction.
"That's why you have what?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
Was Officer Judy Hopps… embarrassed?
"You slipped up now, Carrots," said Nick. "A tease like that. Now you have to tell me."
"You'll think it's dumb. I know you will."
"Maybe," he said cheerfully. "But you'll tell me anyway."
The dull tips of her claws bit into his skin, just a bit. But if she was going for punishing, it had the opposite effect.
"Come on, Carrots. Spill."
She grumbled but shifted so that her face was no longer buried in his neck. She tucked herself under his chin, and Nick adjusted his hold so that his paw didn't accidentally slip and touch her tail. He was new at this cuddling thing, but that seemed like boundary one didn't cross without permission.
It was tempting though.
Luckily, Judy distracted him again by caving in and admitting, "When I left home, my siblings gave me a bunch of their stuffed bunny toys. Different teddy rabbits and blushies from their rooms. And when I get lonely sometimes at night I take them out and—"
"Cuddle with them?"
Judy covered her face in her paws.
That was so disgustingly adorable Nick didn't know if he could stand it.
Judy peeked up at his face and groaned. "I shouldn't have told you."
"Carrots. Is that what's in your top right drawer?"
She smacked his shoulder. "Stop smiling like that! You're still not allowed to go in there."
"But what if I need an emergency cuddle bunny? I mean buddy."
"You're terrible." But there was laughter in her voice.
Much better.
"Well if you won't let me borrow your toys in my time of need, I guess I'll just have to make do with what I have then, won't I?" he said, reaching for her.
Judy let out a startled laugh and made a half-hearted attempt to evade his grasp, but he caught her to him and she fell back against his chest, giggling and shoving as he rubbed his cheek against her.
"I don't think cuddle bunnies are supposed to squirm this much," said Nick, shoving away a foot so he could nuzzle her ear. "Stay still, cuddle bunny. Can't you see I'm trying to cuddle you here?"
"You're a menace!" gasped Judy.
He let out playful growl, second-guessing the wisdom of it only after the fact. But Judy didn't so much as tremble. She continued her easy batting at his paws, her smile bright, and Nick dipped his head to nuzzle behind her ear, taking a deep breath of sweet bunny and fresh blueberries and Judy.
My bunny.
Judy froze, her ears swiveling around at the sound, her laughter cutting off so fast that for a moment Nick was terrified he had actually spoken the thought aloud. She sprang from his hold in a hasty escape that had her banging into the driver's side door. One paw went up to touch the place where his mouth had been a moment before, and Nick's stomach plummeted.
He had gone too far. Cuddling had been fine but he just hadn't been able to resist sticking his muzzle where it didn't belong and now he had ruined everything. And after he had just warned himself.
His heart was pounding. He forced himself to breath normally. "What's wrong?" he asked, playing dumb when he already knew. He had freaked her out. Had she felt his mouth on her and realized who—what—she had decided to "cuddle" with? Had some long-delayed revulsion finally kicked in?
Judy had already collected herself and was smiling at him again, but he didn't trust it anymore than he trusted his legs if the worst happened and he needed to escape this cruiser in the next few minutes.
"It's nothing," she told him. And then, looking at him harder, "What's with that face? Really, it's nothing. I just realized that I was probably getting my scent all over you, right? It must have been bothering you." She reached over to brush at his fur, like she could sweep the smell away, all while staying as far back from him as she could.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. You should have said something and I would have left you alone."
Nick felt numb. "What are you talking about?"
"My scent. I know you don't like it."
Now he felt numb and confused. "Where in Zootopia did you get that idea?"
She stopped brushing at him. "When we interviewing Mo. You said I smelled like a bunny to you."
"Carrots… you are a bunny."
"But you said it like you were unhappy about it."
The lightbulb finally clicked on. Oh.
Nick blew out a breath, lightheaded with relief. He hadn't scared her away. He didn't repulse her. On the contrary, she was worried that she repulsed him.
Nick would have laughed at how ridiculous that worry was, but that would require him to then explain himself, and there was no way on the Great Turtle's back he was going to admit to her that in truth he liked the way she smelled too much.
"I don't mind it, Carrots. Really," he said.
Her expression was disbelieving. "You were rubbing your nose that night at the bar after we… danced."
Her stutter over the word 'dance' made Nick's tail twitch. Probably because using the term "dancing" to describe what they had been doing was so inaccurate as to be a lie.
And she knew it.
Nick was good at working out puzzles, mysteries, even sticky questions. But the second he realized his mind was trying to figure out why his partner might be tip-toeing around this particular subject, he shoved all his curiosity into a box and slammed the lid shut. He didn't want to solve this one.
He didn't dare.
As for her accusations concerning that night, Nick was no more interested in explaining his actions than he was in confessing his fondness for her scent.
So he did what any cornered predator would do.
He went on the attack.
"What about you?" he asked her. "You didn't seem too happy to be told you smelled like a fox. You were pretty upset about it, as I recall."
"I—" She stopped, thinking about it.
Nick didn't push. He leaned against the window, pretending to watch the rain while really observing her from the corner of his eye and recovering from the shock she'd just given him. He was confident that he had her but was ready for whatever excuse she tried to throw at him.
Judy looked over at him, and something in her eyes shifted. Oh, boy. This was going to be a doozy, wasn't it?
He waited for it.
"You're right," she said. "I was overreacting."
Nick blinked. "That's it?"
She shrugged and started the car.
"No, really, that's it? You're not even going to try and argue it? After all that fuss you made?" He tsked. "You're slipping, Carrots."
She didn't even pretend to take offense. Her eyes were on the road. Hyper-focused, even for her.
Avoiding him, he realized.
Another mystery.
Nick's tail twitched.
He quickly added it to the box.
