Nothing to say as of now, other than the fact that this is, as far as the plot goes, a slow chapter. But what happens in it is very important…I hope it's not boring!
Enjoy.
… … … … …
Chapter Five: Your Heart on Your Sleeve
The taxi ride back to Judy's apartment was, needless to say, awkward—at least, it was for Nick.
Nick had called the cab because he didn't want to have to walk all the way to the subway station in uncomfortable silence, but the subway seemed like the better option in hindsight. With all the other mammals surrounding them in a cramped train or on the busy sidewalk, it would have been easy to avoid a sensitive conversation—but in the back of the cab with only their horse driver as witness, he could already hear the questions that wriggled on the tip of Judy's tongue.
But, to his surprise, she never said anything. She had called the Chief at one point, informing him that they were heading home for the night; but other than that, she simply stared at the folded paws in her lap or out at passing cars and buses. With the exception of a few small sighs, she stayed completely silent.
So now, Nick was watching the lazy lights of the city dance drowsily past, impatiently waiting for Judy to pipe up with an apology or an awkward conversation-starter.
Nick could usually depend on Judy to get these discussions rolling, but tonight, it didn't look like it was going to happen. This was extremely frustrating to the fox, and only made his anger at her flare. He wanted her to say something oh-so-badly, because that's how it usually worked—the second that Judy sensed any sort of uneasiness or conflict, she immediately dove headfirst to assess the situation without even thinking twice. She advertised the importance of communication way too much. Not that Nick didn't agree, but Judy had a much easier time with speaking her feelings; he, however, did not.
But for some reason, Judy said nothing.
How utterly convenient. Now, of all moments, she decided to clamp her chatterbox mouth shut. Well, he wouldn't say anything either, then. If she knew he overheard the conversation, then she must know he was angry and what he was angry about; why should he have to be the one to bring it up? He shouldn't. He shouldn't have to say anything.
Nick couldn't help but glance over to the bunny sitting two seats over—she was gazing out the window, just like he was, but she was looking incredibly pensive. She didn't look sad or hurt like he expected, only maybe slightly worried and a little tired.
The fox rolled his eyes, and slumped his chin into his paw. Ugh, Dumb bunnies, dumb bunnies. Oblivious bunnies. He suppressed an irritated grunt.
Nick had only had enough money on him to get them both to Judy's apartment, so he planned on walking to the bus stop when the cab dropped them off. Once they arrived and Nick gave the driver the fee and a fair tip, they both slipped out of the car and the horse tipped his hat to them as he drove off.
Then they stood silent on the wet pavement. Nick felt the cool, forgiving night air brush its fingers through his fur; it felt good against his hot, angry ears. When he peered over at Judy, he found her not looking at him but instead at her apartment—like she expected all several hundred of her brothers and sisters to pop out of the exit door all at once.
And then she must have felt his eyes, because almost immediately after he had looked at her, purple irises accented with a glaze of light flicked back toward him.
Nick was about to simply nod goodbye, turn on his heels and head home to let himself cool down—but he didn't get an opportunity. As soon as he flinched, Judy pulled her keys out of her pocket and took a step toward him, a serious glint flashing across her eyes. "I have blueberry smoothies."
Nick cocked an eyebrow at her. A peace offering? It's not that easy, Carrots.
He glanced at his watch. "It's almost nine-thirty."
Judy raised her eyebrows expectantly at him, as if she expected him to follow up that comment with elaboration.
"It's late, we have work tomorrow."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, thrusting her hip out to the side as she crossed her arms. "Like that's ever stopped us before. And since when do you care if we have work tomorrow or not?" Judy could be very sassy—Nick hated that he thought it was absolutely adorable, especially when he was still frustrated with her.
Nick shrugged. "Well, it's been a long day."
"We've had plenty of long days, and we still hung out after those."
"Carrots, the last time I checked, we've never had—" he held up one finger, "Gazelle flounce into the ZPD."
Judy blinked rapidly, throwing out her paws in exaggerated exasperation. "She visits places all the time! She likes to talk to her fans!"
"I'm sure she tosses eight grand at them too, then." He was still holding up one finger.
"Uh, probably…?"
Nick ignored her answer and continued. "We've also never become skilled informants before." He didn't hesitate to push a haughty British accent into the two words, giving overstating air quotes and puffing his chest.
"You were a skilled informant for me, remember?" Judy paused for a moment; her brow wrinkled in thought. "Actually, no. You were just an informant. Not skilled." She chuckled sheepishly, as if embarrassed for her mistake. "Then never mind, you're right about that, please continue."
Nick normally would have quipped back, but his feelings were too jumbled for that; he just blinked as if the comment didn't faze him. "And we never regularly reunite with Sam…except—uh oh!—now he's engaged and moved out…" his voice turned to a low, serious mutter, "…and his abusive dad and brand-new fiancée are both in the hospital on the brink of death."
Judy's face fell, as he had expected. They both stayed silent for a moment, absorbing the monstrosity that was their day; well, Nick assumed Judy was. He was honestly just waiting for a reaction from her, for her to bring up what he had overheard, to say she was sorry.
Then her eyes turned wide, buttery, hopeful. She peered up at him through her eyelashes, and Nick was astounded that he could still see purple through them. "The blueberry smoothies aren't going to drink themselves, Nick," she murmured.
"I'm tired."
"Please?" She started doing that thing, where she looks forlornly at the ground and presses her paws to her chest, looking so sad and hurt without even meaning to. "I…I want to talk." Her eyes raised upward to his face as she spoke, and Nick got angry at the simple fact that she knew how to tug on his heartstrings.
"About what?" Nick suddenly heard himself snap.
"A…About today. About Sam, about Jack."
"There's nothing that needs to be said."
Judy's brows furrowed slightly. "And what do you mean by that?"
Nick shrugged, trying to reclaim his hold on nonchalance. "Nothing, really. I just means that there's nothing going on."
"Lies! Horrendous, nasty foxy lies! " Judy exclaimed, poking a finger into the sky authoritatively. "Lies that smell of blueberries and overly-sweetened coffee and dryer sheets and too much Chinese takeout and so many tacky button-ups, oh, the stinky foxy lies!" She waved a hand to her forehead in pretend anguish, almost like she was in a soap opera and about to swoon and dramatically faint.
Nick let himself give a small chuckle at her mockery of his statement the night before. "Oh, you're so funny, Carrots. You should be a stand-up comedian, really. I'm sure everyone just loves carrot knock-knock jokes."
"My carrot knock-knock jokes are killer, Slick."
"Yeah, to IQ levels and brain cells, maybe."
"Wait, let's not get off topic," she insisted, shaking her head. "Why won't you come up, Nick? You're usually down for hanging out after work."
"I'm just…" he thought about spilling his feelings for a moment, but his wall shoved itself upwards and his mask glued itself firmly on his face. So he decided otherwise. "I'm just tired, I want sleep."
"You're lying."
For one moment, just one, he let his mask slip. "You know, Carrots, I know what you're trying to do. Not everything can be fixed with blueberry smoothies and sugarcoated apologies." He immediately regretted it.
Judy's eyes, all at once, widened and then narrowed into angry slits. She crossed her arms, an extremely defensive position. "Apologies?" she tested, her ears standing at attention; Nick half-expected them to flash him salutes. "Who said I needed to apologize?"
Nick just shook his head, and waved his paw dismissively at her. "Forget it." He stuck his paws in his pockets, and started to turn away. "I'm going home, see you at work."
He had taken a grand total of two steps before her powerful words tugged him to a halt. "Ohhhh, no you don't, Nicholas Piberius Wilde!" her voice boomed; it was entirely too loud for a bunny, entirely too loud. He could hear her impatient foot slap against the wet sidewalk. "You will not say something like that to me and then just leave! Turn your tail back around right now."
He gave a short snicker, one not accompanied with a smirk. "And if I don't?"
"There will be more than one thing I'm gonna be 'apologizing' for."
He didn't let himself move a single muscle; instead, he just stared down the emptying street, letting himself boil over her words.
She gave her stupidly adorable huff. "Just turn back around, Nick. We don't have to go upstairs if you don't want to."
A zebra passed by, pace quickening once he sensed the intensity wavering between the fox and the bunny.
Nick abruptly faced toward Judy once again, and dropped back onto his heels. Once there, he held out his paws and raised his eyebrows. I'm here, now what?
"Blueberry smoothies or not, fox?" she pressed, her voice impatient.
"No. I don't want one."
"Don't want to go inside, either? Or are you too angry for that, too?"
"No offense, Carrots, but stuffy shoebox of an apartment isn't exactly ideal for a cool-down."
Judy rolled her eyes. "And I suppose this is the part when I ask you what you're angry about?"
"No, this is the part when you figure out what I'm angry about, because you aren't stupid," Nick retorted, and went to loosen his tie. This wasn't good, oh no, it wasn't good a-tall. He needed to go, he needed to leave, before he got too angry to hold onto his mask again.
But then Judy took a few steps toward him; she was so short, but in that moment, Nick thought she could have never looked taller. She had quite the presence, he'd give her that. "It's because you heard the crumpet thing, isn't it?" she asked, her voice a tad gentler. "Because I guess I can understand you being a little irritated, but Nick, I can tell you're really upset. Even if you do try to hide it. Was it the crumpet thing?"
"That did grind my gears a bit, but no," he answered, "that's not it."
"Then what is?"
Nick paused for a moment; the words he wanted to say were burning and thrashing at his insides, pressing against his tongue like hot bile. But he knew he wouldn't get anywhere with Judy if he threw underhanded comments at her, so he decided to try to think about what he said before he let anything spill out of his mouth.
"I was there," he began carefully, "for most of the conversation."
Judy nodded affirmingly. "Okay, since when?"
"You were telling him you needed to prove yourself because you were a bunny, or something equally Officer Hopps-ish."
"I can't tell if that's an insult or a compliment."
Nick ignored that comment. "I figured out that you had money problems beforehand, and I was going to talk to you about it."
Judy wilted a little bit, and her eyes lowered to the pavement. "Oh…" A panther slinked by, sidestepping the bunny without a second glance. Then, the rabbit gave a small chuckle. "I was about to ask how you figured it out, but that would be a stupid question."
"Yeah, it was pretty obvious, but that's not the point." Nick focused his eyes on her, zeroed in on her face; she had varied emotions striped across it, like anger and fear and uneasiness. "The point is that you didn't want to tell me about the six thousand dollars you owe the bank." He gave an alarmed ha! "Six thousand, Fluff."
"But, Nick," she started to argue, "It's really not that big of a de—"
"It is when it means your job!" Nick cut her off; he had to make sure the growl that formed at the base of his throat didn't emerge along with his words. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you couldn't be in the ZPD—or in Zootopia, for that matter—unless you pay it off."
Her ears fell. "Nick…"
"And you even insisted on not telling me because you were going to 'assess' it first, or whatever," Nick murmured. "And I would have let you pay be back…"
Judy let out a small, exasperated huff. "You have your own money troubles! I couldn't ask that of you. Besides, I didn't know what I was going to need to do, I only have a month to get it together."
Shock smacked him in the gut like he just took a belly flop into Mr. Big's ice vat. "A month?" he gawked, sucking in a gasp. "You only have a month to pay it off?!"
Judy winced; she obviously recognized too late that she shouldn't have told him that. "Y…Yeah…A month." The gave a few blinks, and then a hopeful, toothy grin exploded on her face. "But…But now I have a solution, Nick! The mission! We save Zootopia before the deadline, and I get the money."
Nick folded his arms, and leaned over her; she didn't seem any smaller. "Yeah? And what happens if we don't save Zootopia, hmm?"
She visibly wilted at the comment; no, more like dissolved. It occurred for a mere few seconds before she strengthened up again, almost like a tree spreading its limbs and securing its roots. Determination pushed her ears back up again. "We…We won't fail," she answered, her voice small but as sharp as blades.
Nick shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. "You know, it's funny, because this?" He pointed at the ground, as if it represented their current situation. "This is not even what I'm upset about. I mean, hiding it from me? Okay, you wanna keep things on the down-low, I get it," he rambled. "The crumpet thing is horrifyingly humiliating, to say the least, but I can get over it." Exasperation tugged at his paws. "Even you assessing it for a while is fine, I suppose! You're dealing with it in your own way."
Judy watched him rant with eyebrows furrowed and jaw slightly agape; it was an awkward mix of horror and amazement, because it wasn't often when Nick let down his walls twice in one day.
"But…really, Carrots?" he pressed, dropping his paws to slap at his sides in defeat. "You…you told the British bunny spy that we knew for only a couple hours…" he lifted a paw to touch his chest with the tips of his claws. "…before you told me?"
Nick did not get the reaction he was expecting. Judy began to shake her head furiously, holding up her paws in immediate defense; her gaping mouth snapped shut into a thin line. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" she cried, confusion warping her face and tensing her shoulders. "Who said that I told Jack?"
"Don't try to cover it up, Fluff. I heard you talking to him about it."
"Nick," Judy breathed—then she chuckled, to Nick's horror. "He already knew about my money problems, I didn't tell him anything."
A flurry of emotions whirled through Nick, including—but not limited to—guilt, relief, and shame. "What?"
She gave a small tsk. "Nick, he looked you up. He knew about your tax evasion crap before he even strutted into the station today." She crossed her little arms and gave him her look, accompanied with a cocked eyebrow and thrusted hip, that always seemed to accomplish making him feel at least a little bit stupid. "You obviously read very deeply into the situation and thought about this fervently…but did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, he looked me up too?"
No, I didn't. And now I wish I did. Ugh, so stupid!
Nick swallowed, and tried to ignore the way that guilt carved at his stomach with a single white-hot blade. "So…you didn't tell him before you told me?"
"No, dumb fox. No, I didn't."
Nick began to mentally prepare himself for a lecture, heaving his fortress walls back up with a practiced strength. He expected the bunny to be angry with him, that she was hurt that he didn't trust her to trust him, that he needed to top assuming things and be mindful that his reasons for his hurt were lined with hypocrisy…
…But when Nick let his eyes meet hers, he was surprised to discover that her face did not harbor an accusatory expression. Instead, it was laced with a soft smile and forgiving eyes, the tiny pull of her cheeks telling him she not only understood why he was upset, but also that she didn't blame him for it. Her arms were still folded, her hip was still cocked, but now it was as if she knew what he was feeling—and that it was okay.
He tugged at his tie again, eager to give himself a distraction. "Uh.."
"Are you sure you don't want those blueberry smoothies?"
… … … … …
Judy didn't actually have the smoothies made—but she did have blueberries, bananas, and yogurt, however, and was completely prepared to make some smoothies for her partner. So while Nick sat awkwardly on her bed, taking a sudden massive interest in her grimy wooden floor, Judy was busy preparing the ingredients to dump into the tiny blender she kept on top of her minifridge.
Judy wasn't mad. She was sad, but more surprised than anything; Nick had opened up twice in one day, and it was quite the record. That was probably the biggest thing that concerned her.
She faced away from the fox as she chopped a banana on a cutting board next to the blender, carefully watching each stroke of the knife. "So…" she started, carefully turning an ear toward the fox.
A deep grunt emanated from behind her. "So."
"You want half a banana, or a whole?"
"Doesn't matter."
So Judy shrugged, and slid all of the banana slices into the blender; she began to mix the separated yogurt, but was stopped by a deep, heaving sigh.
"Carrots, I…I'm sorry I…doubted you." His voice was low, almost undetectable—like he was struggling to push the words out of his mouth. "And I assumed things. That…wasn't right."
Judy calmly placed the yogurt container on top of the minifridge, and chuckled through a toothy smile she knew Nick couldn't see. "You have nothing to apologize for."
"Yes I do," he answered. "I really do. I was being narcissistic and hypocritical."
Judy scooped a big glob of yogurt into the blender, and glanced back at the fox to smirk at him. He had loosened his tie considerably, slumping with elbows on knees, peering guiltily up at her with troubled green eyes; the lights from the city poured through her window and made his russet fur glow. "You, actually admitting that you were wrong?" she jeered, snickering snidely at him. "Who are you and what have you done with Nick?"
"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't dare do anything bad to him. He's far too devilishly handsome and charming; it would be an atrocity to harm such a perfect specimen of fox."
Judy raised her eyebrows. "You and I are obviously not talking about the same guy. My Nick is a complete dork who wears garish Pawaiian shirts and secretly loves historical romances; he's quite the dumb fox, truth be told."
"Har, har," he drawled back, a smile tugging at his lips; then it slowly melted into a frown. "But seriously, I…don't know why I got so mad."
Judy faced back towards her smoothie-making. "I do." She proceeded to dump a cartonful of blueberries into the blender.
"You do." His voice sounded intrigued.
"Yeah, I do," she answered, folded down her ears behind her head, and proceeded to turn on the blender.
She gave a small snicker when she heard Nick's yelp of disdain after she flipped the switch on the machine. The sound was sudden, loud, and grinding, and seemed to almost echo off the tiny walls in her apartment; Judy firmly pressed her ears down against her head to shield her sensitive hearing.
When the purple concoction was thoroughly mixed, she turned off the blender and thus ended the horrifying noise. Nick immediately let out a giant sigh of relief from behind her, and then a scoff. "A little warning might be nice, you know!" he complained.
Just as Judy turned back around to give him a snide comment, there was a muffled bang on the wall beside her bed, where Nick still sat. "Yeah, bunny!" the muffled yell of who Judy recognized to be Pronk carped. "It's almost ten, I'm tryin' to sleep!"
Nick looked alarmed at the sudden interruption at first, and then settled once he realized the source. He looked tiredly over at Judy as if to say, Here we go again. She rolled her eyes in agreement.
"Shut up, Pronk, that fox is tryin' to apologize to her! Didn't you hear what he said? He was bein' a hypocrite or something!"
"Don't tell me to shut up, Bucky, tell her! I wasn't the one runnin' a blender in the middle of the night!"
"Oh, just shut up!"
"You shut up!"
Nick flinched to the side as Judy sent a spoon sailing into the wall with a thud that echoed almost as much as the blender did. "How about you both shut up and leave us alone, for cheese's sake?!"
There was only a split second of silence before the mumbles of consent cold be heard from their apartment, agreements to Judy's demand tumbling through the wall. "Uh, yeah, sure, Judes… Don't know why you didn't just say so…" and "Don't turn on that satanic blender again, and we won't say another word…" were included in their consent.
"Ugh! Thank goodness," Judy grumbled under her breath, grabbing two plastic cups from a little bin on her desk and setting them down a little too forcefully. "I swear, sometimes, those two are worse than living with all of my siblings."
"That's a bit hard to believe," Nick replied, an amused smile stretched across his muzzle. "Then again, I imagine your walls back in Bunnyburrow aren't essentially sheets of paper."
"No," Judy snickered as she poured the blueberry smoothie mixture into the two cups. "No, they are not." She placed the pitcher back on its perch on the blender base, and in a few quick strides she plopped down onto the bed next to Nick with the cups in paw.
She held one out to him. "Here."
"Thanks." He took it, and looked pensively down into the cup. He was silent for a moment.
Judy sipped her own, and the pleasant and oh-so-familiar blueberry sweetness exploded across her tongue. "Not gonna drink it?" She watched Nick curiously.
The fox blinked a few times, his green eyes flicking from his smoothie to her, and then back to his smoothie. "Yeah, I am." He took a small gulp and gave a tiny hum of pleasure. "Mmm."
"You're welcome."
Air puffed his lips outward, making him look quite comical for a few seconds. "You still haven't told me why you think I got so mad, Carrots."
Judy shrugged. "It's simple, really. I was thinking about it on the stair climb up here," she replied, and smirked. "I've realized that I've gotten pretty good at reading others, and I think I have you to thank for that."
"Uh, sure? Glad I can be of assistance."
"Anyway," she continued, "I think the reason you got so mad is because you just don't like Jack."
Nick cocked an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it's obvious you have a problem with the guy. I feel like if I had the same conversation but with someone else—like Clawhauser, for instance—then you wouldn't have been so mad."
"You make it seem like I'm shallow or something."
Judy felt her breath hitch. "Oh, no!" she quickly amended, "I didn't mean it like that. You just don't trust him, is all, which is understandable; I'm sure when you thought I confided in Jack, you were probably instinctively being protective of me. You didn't want me to make myself vulnerable to someone who is potentially untrustworthy."
Nick's face had been hardened, eyebrows furrowed as he listened to Judy; but as she explained and he contemplated, his expression began to relax and soften. "Yeah, I…" He tilted his cup toward him and peered back down into his drink. "…that makes sense. I suppose you're right."
"You were just being a friend," she said softly, and placed a paw on the back of his arm. "You were concerned about me to begin with, and that definitely didn't help."
"No, I wasn't concerned. It just wasn't any fun bickering with a brick wall." His signature coy smile slid onto his face.
Judy scoffed and lightly smacked his arm. "You liar!"
"Officer Hopps, I would never," he gasped, holding a paw to his chest. "Lying to a cop is a crime, and I am an obedient, law-abiding citizen."
"Yeah, a law-abiding citizen who has twenty years' worth of tax evasion under his belt!"
"Which I am paying back, with interest," Nick swiftly countered, holding up a finger.
Judy smiled. "Speaking of the tax evasion," she sang, "you might like to know something."
His emerald eyes peered down at her, a stark and lovely contrast to the red of his fur. "And what is that, sweetheart?" The emeralds glittered.
Judy smirked up at him, cocking a brow and swinging her legs. "You remember how Jack said we'd get paid ten thousand dollars if we succeeded at this mission?"
"Ugh. Yeah?"
She sipped her smoothie. "I don't think that was the MI6's terms."
Nick clenched his jaw. "What do you mean?"
"I think that Jack is paying it out of his own pocket."
The fox let out a grumpy snort, rolling his eyes and taking a deep gulp of his drink. "Oh yeah, of course he is," he spat sarcastically as he lowered the smoothie from his lips. "Soon, he'll be paying for our rent and fixing the leaky faucet in my bathroom, too."
"No, think about it!" Judy insisted, leaning forward so she could meet the fox's eyes. "If the MI6 payed us, then somewhere they would have record of it. If the ZIA suspected that the MI6 was using us to investigate them and somehow found the records, it wouldn't only be the ZIA and MI6 at war; the ZPD would be part of it, too!"
Nick just wore a small frown, watching Judy with a disgruntled look on his face.
"That's not the only reason, though. We're getting paid because he knew about my loan problems and your tax evasion debt; he even told me that it was worth the cost if it kept good cops on the streets. Nick," she breathed, "he's giving you and me a path towards being free of all this debt crap, don't you see?"
"If we succeed."
Judy blinked. "What?"
Nick's eyebrows furrowed with his scowl, and he gazed pointedly at her. "We have to do well on his mission first," he murmured, "listen to him and do what he wants. By hanging the money over our heads, he's just putting us right where he wants us."
"That's not fair, Nick. You're not even giving him a chance or even the benefit of the doubt; you hardly know the guy."
His green eyes turned to focus on the opposite wall; he held his cup to his lips. "Well neither do you, Fluff. I happen to think you're giving him a little too much benefit and not enough doubt." He took a deep drink.
Judy scoffed. "That's ridiculous. He's a secret agent; if Bogo trusts him, then so do I."
With a strangely handsome and coy smile forming on his face, Nick pushed his paw that was holding his smoothie towards Judy; he delicately lifted his pinkie off the cup, as if it was porcelain and filled with tea and not plastic and half-filled with blueberry goodness.
"If I'm Agent Teatime, sitting here on top of twenty grand in my expensive Italian suit and sipping Earl Grey, here's where Slick Nick and Cutie Judy would be." He took the pointer finger of his opposite paw and made a winding motion around his pinkie, giving a wide-eyed stare to the bunny. "Twisted around his little finger, Carrots. Practically knotted."
Nick is such a pill.
Judy gave a small chuckle, raising an eyebrow at the fox. "You are so unbelievably cynical. It's incredible, really."
"And you're so unbelievably optimistic," Nick flung back, but the smile had grown on his snout. "I guess that's why we're friends, right? To balance each other out?"
Judy grinned up at him. "I guess so."
Nick chuckled, and took a long chug of his smoothie. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and muttered, "Even if he is taking advantage of us, I suppose I can suffer through. Zootopia's worth it."
Pride and happiness swelled through Judy when the fox said this; she didn't realize how giddily she was grinning until Nick sent her an uncomfortable glance, examining her face with a mix of uncertainty and amusement. "Don't look too happy, you might spontaneously combust; all that'll be left is some bunny fluff and Easter eggs."
"You did not just make an Easter Bunny joke."
He sneered. "I did, Officer Hopps, I did indeed."
… … … … …
The next day, Jack and Chief Bogo had opted to meet on a business lunch.
They decided it was the better option, so the officers in the ZPD wouldn't wonder why Jackson Russel the accountant was coming in every other day. They had chosen a smaller café tucked into a street corner, with limited windows and more private table choices. The hare was waiting for Chief Bogo at one twenty-three in the afternoon, sitting at a larger booth to accommodate the buffalo's size, with a steaming cup of black coffee sitting patiently in front of him.
Jack was very thankful that Officer Wilde had pointed out the suit situation to him the day before; while Jack hadn't initially thought he would have had to go into the office pretending to be Jackson Russel, it was still good to take into consideration that an accountant wouldn't wear an Italian suit. Jack didn't actually buy the suit with his own money—a good majority of his clothing was provided by MI6—but it didn't prevent Jack from inwardly kicking himself for not thinking of it earlier. So that day, he wore a simpler ensemble of khakis, a white turtleneck, and a windbreaker; he didn't regret it one bit. It was immensely comfortable.
In the inside pocket of this windbreaker, an envelope possessing a single photo was pressed against his ribcage. Jack tried to distract himself from its presence, look natural; he quietly read a newspaper and sipped at his coffee, nodding amiably at anyone who happened to pass close by the booth. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the coffee was of good quality and thoroughly enjoyable; he preferred tea, of course, but he could definitely appreciate the authoritative stoutness of coffee. He liked it without cream or sugar, just like his liked his tea.
There was a loud shuffle and the mumble of a greeting, and Jack lowered his newspaper to establish the source of the noise. Chief Bogo was slipping into the booth, thick jacket zipped to hide his uniform shirt and glasses perched on his nose; he was giving his usual furrowed-brow stare at the bunny sitting across from him.
"Jack."
The hare nodded a silent hello. "Chief." He started to fold up his newspaper. "Thank you for taking time away from your busy schedule to meet with me."
Bogo only shrugged, and jut his chin downwards. "They didn't have a booth that could fit both of us, I suppose."
Jack looked down; his seating arrangement wasn't unusual, but notable. The waitress had taken a chair from one of the tables built for smaller mammals and set it in the much larger bench of the booth so the hare could reach the table; a seat on top of a seat. There were booths in the café that were made to include both big and small mammals, but they were all placed directly in front of the two solitary bay windows that quaintly accented the front of the establishment.
Being small in a world of big and bad mammals never ceased to make Jack feel a little ridiculous, but he pushed it off with a shrug and a chuckle. "This table was more private. The waitress was very accommodating."
Bogo nodded gruffly, and glanced around the restaurant; despite it being lunchtime, there were not very many customers. There was a soala couple giggling and eating little sandwiches, an older female hippopotamus reading a book, and a young teenage porcupine on his phone in the far corner who was most likely skipping school. None were within earshot, but the cape buffalo still looked a bit skeptical. "You sure a restaurant is acceptable for exchanging confidential information?"
Jack shrugged again, this time taking a long sip of his coffee. "This one is, at least," he replied simply, setting the mug back on its saucer.
"And you would know that, how?"
Jack cleared his throat. "Well," he began, "I didn't know at first. It was a toss-up, but I knew it had less business than other establishments, so I settled on it." He gestured to the space around them. "It's open, not cluttered, and we can see anyone coming in and out of the door. The couple over there?"
Bogo glanced toward them, still skeptical. "Yeah. What about them?"
"They were here before me. Snogging when I walked in. They were talking about normal things, I couldn't detect anything that may be code—unless discussing the fact that her friend Karen copped off with a lad named Jeffrey is code for something." Jack jutted his head toward the old hippo. "This lady entered right in front of me. She has hearing aids and a prescription package in her purse with the name Agatha Mawpool printed on the outside. It is quite unlikely that she is a spy in disguise."
Bogo peered over to the old woman, and Jack knew he would find the prescription package poking out of the top of her worn leather bag; the name enscribed on it, however, was unreadable from across the restaurant. Then the Chief focused back on the hare, still seemingly unconvinced. "And the kid?"
Jack glanced over to the porcupine, who was glaring impatiently at his phone with earbuds in his ears. "Oh, he's suspicious, but in an entirely different way," he chuckled.
"Not sure what you mean."
Jack sniffed, and lifted his coffee cup off his saucer again. "I saw him tuck a roll of bills into his jacket pocket earlier," he answered. "Tapping his foot impatiently, glancing up every time someone walked by or entered. Repeatedly checking his phone." He pressed the mug against his lips, the porcelain still hot from the coffee it held. "I'm assuming he's waiting for a drug deal."
Bogo scoffed. "In here?"
"No, out there," Jack replied, jutting his head toward the bay window. Just across the street, a small, inconspicuous alley could be seen; inside there were four large industrial garbage cans. Three of the four lids had been raised, a detail easily overlooked by swift-footed passersby distracted with getting from point A to point B in the shortest amount of time possible.
Bogo's eyes widened with surprise, and he looked at Jack with a slightly disbelieving puff from his nose. The furrow of his brow never lifted. "A dead drop?"
Jack shrugged. "Spies use them all the time, I know what even the most subtle ones look like; this poor bloke knows he's going to get his merchandise today, so he's anxiously awaiting his dealer to drop it." Jack took a light sip from his coffee, and was delighted to be reminded that it was still pleasantly hot. "Once the drugs are dropped—which I'm assuming will be taped to the back of one of those wheelie bins—the dealer will either raise the last lid or shut one of the open ones as a signal, and this porcupine will go gather his goods and tape the money where the drugs were for his dealer to pick it up."
The buffalo's eyebrows raised. "I know what a dead drop is, Agent." Nothing in his tone was accusatory; he actually sounded a bit impressed.
"I'm sure you do, Chief." Jack placed his coffee cup back down, but this time not on its saucer; it clinked on the wooden surface of their table. "To be honest, a part of me wishes this dealer would come so I won't have to keep having to endure hearing the horrid screaming music that he's listening to on those bloody earphones."
Bogo glanced up at Jack's long, sensitive ears, which were obviously the reason for this. "I'll see if I can catch him on my way out," he mumbled to himself.
The waitress came by to jot down the buffalo's order; despite this being a "business lunch", neither of them got anything to eat. Bogo just ordered a large black coffee, blurting out the title of the drink halfheartedly; Jack doubted he actually wanted to order anything, but appreciated the fact that he was trying to look a bit less conspicuous. His face was on the telly quite a bit; if they weren't careful, they would catch the eye of a mammal who was familiar with Chief Bogo's face and draw unnecessary attention.
"So let's get down to business, shall we?" Bogo grumbled as the waitress walked off, muttering quietly to herself.
"I couldn't agree more." Jack reach into his inside jacket pocket, and pulled out the photo that had been burning his ribcage. "First of all—this tattoo on Jeremy Packard's neck. Have you seen it before?"
Bogo accepted the picture and peered down through his spectacles; he blinked wordlessly a few times. His expression was vacant. "The two of the other three preds that were caught had that tattoo."
"Why was this valuable piece of information not in the files you gave me?"
Bogo's eyes narrowed slightly: Jack knew his tone was slightly accusatory, but it was frustrating when he wasn't given all the details all at once. "Because," Bogo answered, "The connection is not for certain. If you'll remember Dick Sandeclaw's autopsy report, he had clawed at his own neck before collapsing and dying behind that Bug-Burga—there were remnants of a tattoo, but if it was that tattoo is unknown. Just having two other similar tattoos wasn't enough to confirm anything, and when I gave you those copies of the files, the lab had the originals of the tattoo photos."
Jack cocked his brow. "Why?"
"They were…ahem." Bogo shifted, and his scowl softened a bit; he glanced out the window for a brief seconds, like he was searching the street for the right words. "They were trying to…reassemble Sandeclaw's skin, to see if it was a match."
The hare nodded in understanding, giving a long hum in thought. "Is this the only thing connecting the assaulters?"
"Other than the same drug in the apprehended preds and having photos of Wraqune communicating with each of the assaulters—even the ones we haven't captured—no. We have essentially nothing connecting all these savage animals together." Bogo heaved a great sigh, leaning on the table with his burly elbows. "But even so, every animal that goes savage will have to be considered a part of this." He snorted roughly. "The law may say 'innocent until proven guilty', but I don't think MI6 will mind of we say 'guilty until proven innocent'just this one time."
Jack felt something creep up the inside of his chest and tug at his lungs urgently. He silently pushed away the doubt that was piling itself up in his brain, and concentrated instead on the intense frown that was carved into the Chief's face.
"Well, please inform me promptly of any news you receive on Sandeclaw's tattoo."
"Will do."
Jack carefully slipped the photo back into the pocket of his windbreaker. "Is there any more news from your officers' investigation?"
"Not very much," Bogo answered, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat. "They don't suspect anything, I don't think, but it's only a matter of time before they will realize what I'm trying to do."
"Did your officers turn in the statement reports of the mammals that may have witnessed Packard's attack on Whitehall? I may need those."
"I have them right here to give to you, actually," Bogo mentioned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a smaller-sized file folder. "I also have some records of the progression of the state that Jeremy Packard is in, as well as Jessica Whitehall. And whatever small leads the officers on the case have found, which isn't much."
Jack retrieved the yellow folder and opened it to reveal reports pinned neatly with a paper clip, creased slightly from being in the buffalo's jacket pocket. They were all copies of originals, and of smaller size than the files that were common in the ZPD; Bogo must have taken the originals, copied them, and transferred the copies onto pages of smaller size for the hare's convenience.
"Thank you, Chief," Jack said, trying to push a grateful smile onto his face. "I know it must be difficult to purposefully deceive your officers, and I appreciate what you do."
Shrugging slightly, Bogo's sight shifted downward and then over to the approaching waitress, who was carrying a steaming cup of coffee. "It can be difficult, but it's all for Z—the cause." Bogo was quick to amend his words to cover their true meaning while their waitress placed the coffee mug and saucer in front of him.
Bogo hadn't bothered to give a thanks to the waitress, but she didn't seem to mind. She returned to the kitchen, where faint laughing could be heard; probably other employees conversing while business was slow.
"I also wanted to apologize," Jack said as he watched Bogo wrap a hoof around the handle of the coffee cup, but not pick it up. "I know I told you that I wouldn't test Hopps' and Wilde's abilities, but in order to formulate a plan, I have to know what they're capable of."
"That's definitely understandable. I scheduled the gym at the department to be closed off at three, and for as long as you need thereafter." Bogo gave the tiniest ghost of a smirk. "There's been an ant problem, and we're spraying pesticides—the fumes can be harmful for anyone who doesn't have a gas mask. We'll have to cover up the cameras, too, because the spray could make them short out."
Bogo was definitely a clever buffalo—Jack could see why he had been Chief of Police for the cultural center of the world for so long. "That's perfect. Thank you."
Bogo nodded gruffly in reply. "And I hope Wilde doesn't talk back to you like he has been. Let me know if he does, I'll set him straight."
"It doesn't bother me, Chief," Jack chuckled. "it really doesn't. In fact, I think it's a bit amusing."
"He usually doesn't convey his feelings so openly," Bogo replied, rolling one shoulder back as he spoke. "He always hides it by being a smartass; especially when it comes to mammals giving him grief because of his species. When he first arrived, I noticed he always retaliated to their comments with sass." A low huff. "Then I later realized that he retaliates to everything with sass."
"Well, it certainly makes things interesting."
Bogo suddenly looked extremely disgruntled, and rolled his eyes. "'Infuriating' is the word I would use." He paused in thought for a moment; his eyebrows raised just a bit. "Though, he's obedient. And he gets his work done, and does it well, too. It's the only reason I let him slide by with his comments."
"I'm sure you wouldn't have suggested him for this mission if you didn't think him capable," Jack agreed, gazing into what little he had of his coffee left. Probably cold now.
The buffalo shrugged; he then apparently decided to take a huge gulp from his own coffee cup, which was much bigger than Jack's. He swallowed deeply as he set the mug back down on its saucer. "If there's one thing I've realized since Wilde and Hopps have become partners, it's that they're very protective of each other."
"They do seem very close."
"They work almost too well together," Bogo replied. "They're both great cops, but the reason why they're my best is because they're partners." He gave a small hmph, and leaned back into his seat; somewhere, wood creaked. "You can't have one without the other, even if one is extremely enthusiastic and the other has an affinity for smartass comments."
Neither are necessarily bad things, Jack thought to himself. The saola couple was leaving now, practically hanging off each other and cooing romantically as they exited the café.
"But they're very…closely knit," the buffalo continued, folding his massive arms. "Like I said, they're protective of each other. There has been one too many times when Hopps has kicked a fellow officer in the face for making fun of Wilde being a fox."
The thought of Miss Hopps, who was definitely tiny in comparison to the officers he had seen roaming the department, jamming a heel into the jaw of a rhino or other equally large mammal amused Jack. "Did she not get in trouble?"
Bogo scoffed loudly. "If my officers can't take a beating inside the department, then what makes me think they can take a beating outside the department? Fights aren't common, and no one would dare mess with Hopps. She's a force to be reckoned with."
Jack couldn't help but feel proud. While it was true he was a hare and she was a bunny, they were socially conceived as practically the same species, despite their major differences. To know that there was another rabbit besides himself who was able to stand up to wolves and rhinos gave him a feeling of satisfaction—and their pursuit to become less about rabbits defying stereotypes and more about making the world a better place gave them both a certain dignity that no one else could understand.
With the exception of Officer Wilde. Jack had seen this fox's arrest record; it was impeccable. Jack respected him—he had become just as much of an advocate for improving the world as Miss Hopps, and surely from unideal circumstances.
He just hoped that they were ready for the different kind of intensity and commitment it took to spy. Speaking of…
"There is one thing I worry about, in regards to Officer Wilde's dislike for me."
"Mm," was Bogo's short reply.
Jack tilted his coffee cup to and fro, swirling the contents within; coffee grounds circled sluggishly in the bottom. "Officer Wilde definitely doesn't respect me." Jack shifted his vision from his cup to the buffalo across from him, and felt himself press his mouth into a thin line. "That can be a problem."
"You should have his respect." Bogo tensed his massive arms; Jack was easily the size of his bicep. Despite his muscles and low, gruff voice, he still managed to have an air of intelligence with his careful words and the spectacles that rested on his snout. "You've earned it, just by…engaging in your line of work."
"I honestly could care less Chief," Jack countered, shaking his head. "His attitude doesn't matter right now, when we aren't on the field and having to work as a team." He folded his own arms tightly. "But the second we are doing a job, having to function together, and he does something out of spite or disrespect? That is when it becomes a problem, Chief Bogo."
Bogo gave a quick nod and grunt in agreement. "You're absolutely correct, but let me assure you that Wilde is dependable. He may be sarcastic and sly, but he's not stupid; he knows the importance of teamwork as much as the rest of us."
"I hope you're right." Jack tossed the rest of his coffee down his throat—it was cold. He placed his mug back down on his saucer with a tiny tink and looked at the buffalo pointedly. "For the sake of the mission."
"I suppose you'll get a sense of it soon. Tomorrow at three."
Jack clenched his teeth, thinking about the fox. Jack liked Officer Wilde fine, especially since the way he did everything was so unorthodox; but he was effective. His records for the time he had been a cop was plenty of proof.
He only hoped that Wilde's unorthodox way of handling things didn't come with a heavy dose of disobedience.
"Yes," Jack replied, watching as Bogo's stare was suddenly following the young porcupine who was now walking towards the exit hastily. Like Jack had said, the lid of the last wheelie bin had been lifted; now the teenager was going to go collect. "I suppose I will."
As soon as the door closed behind the porcupine with a few light tinkles of a bell, Bogo slid out of his seat. "I'm going to go nab this kid. Need anything else?"
"No, Chief. Please, proceed."
… … … … …
After a day of boring paperwork that they needed to finish before the start of this new assignment, Judy had convinced Nick to come over and watch a few episodes of Murder, She Wrote—it was an older show that featured a widowed mystery novelist named Jessica Fletcher solving homicide cases. Judy loved the show; she grew up watching it. She would always try to figure out who the killer was before the protagonist did.
The day had gone by so great. Nick was acting like himself, no longer being weird; Judy was thankful. She also felt a million times better since Nick now knew about her money issues. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders; Nick was right, she should have told him earlier, if not for his sake then for hers. But now he knew, and he felt better about the whole situation…therefore, so did she.
Judy had made blueberry smoothies again, much to Nick's pleasure. They were sitting on Judy's bed, propped up on a few throw pillows leaned against the wall; Judy was wrapped up in a blanket. Her bed was narrow and Nick wasn't exactly small in comparison, so they were a bit crowded—they didn't mind. They were used to it. Judy was, at least; she liked being in close proximity with him. Maybe it was because she had spent her whole life bumping elbows with her siblings.
Halfway through the second episode they chose, which was a mystery about the killing of a man on a bus that Judy had already seen, Nick piped up. "It's the bus driver."
Judy, who had curled into a blanket and was slightly leaning into Nick's arm, glanced up at him angrily. "Nick, you just have to ruin everything, don't you?"
"It was obvious, though! When the guy got on the bus, the bus driver sounded like he wanted to kick him out and run him over more than just one time." Nick scratched his chin, and peered at the main character on the laptop screen talking about how they were stuck with a broken-down bus in a particularly bad storm. "On another note, her voice sounds very familiar."
The bunny beside him smiled. "It's Angela Lansbeary. She voiced Mrs. Potts on Beauty and the Beast."
"That's what it is!"
A loud giggle slipped out of Judy's mouth. "You've seen Beauty and the Beast?"
"Yeah." Nick shrugged, a cool expression suddenly falling on his face. "Belle is one of the chiller princesses. I appreciate her smarts."
"While I wholeheartedly agree, don't think this won't be used for blackmail."
Nick scoffed. "Bogo loves Gazelle, and you think I'm worried about mammals knowing I've watched Beauty and the Beast?"
"Touché." Judy focused back on the screen, where the protagonist—an older, small, kind-faced bear—was examining a book belonging to the murder victim. "Isn't Jessica Fletcher such a sweet thing?"
"I'm more intrigued at the fact that this little town in Maine seems to be the murder capital of the country for the whole twelve seasons the show ran."
Judy just rolled her eyes, ignoring his comment, and sighed dreamily. "Her middle name is Beatrice, isn't that nice? I like it. It's an older and unusual name, like mine."
Nick shrugged. "I guess it's pretty okay." Then he gaped at the screen, where a character was holding a screwdriver and observing it closely. "Daaaang, they pulled that thing out of the guy's neck? This show is more intense than I thought."
They watched silently for a few minutes, but Judy soon found she couldn't concentrate. She thought about the fox she was leaning on, and his big marshmallow heart hidden behind his emotional walls; he obviously exposed it when he was defensive of Judy from Jack, and how open he was about skepticism and dislike towards the hare, which was unusual of him. She also thought about the way he had gracefully given Sam some essential advice about making the right choices. Not she didn't think Nick was capable of such things—of course he was—but she was very worried at the fact that he let himself do it. She didn't know if it was the fact that everything was seemingly happening at once, or seeing Sam again, or having to save Zootopia for a second time…but something was making Nick feel it was necessary to open up.
Which begged the question… "Nick?"
Nick was lazily watching the screen, his gaze half lidded. "Carrots?" He didn't tear his eyes from the laptop as the practically-omnipresent coy smirk slid onto his face.
"Why do you dislike Agent Savage so much?"
Nick's face was unchanging as he shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I receive a bad vibe from him or something."
Judy cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"The meeting in the office wasn't the first time I saw the guy," Nick immediately replied. He interrupted his explanation with a long chug of his smoothie. He wiped his mouth with the pad of a paw. "I saw him the day before; he had walked into the ZPD, and gave me a death glare."
Judy blinked as she listened, unbothered by the fact that this episode of Murder, She Wrote was now no longer getting the attention it deserved.
"Then we saw him in the office. Bogo obviously liked him, and Bogo doesn't like anyone." Nick looked down at the bunny leaning against him for a split second, and then straight ahead. "And then he pretends to be an accountant. Not cool."
Judy scoffed. "I'm sure you had just as many aliases as Agent Savage has."
"Oh, I did," Nick replied, and shrugged. "But now I don't. I get he's a spy, but…I don't know. Plus, he's dangling the money in our faces."
"Money isn't necessarily a bad thing, Nick."
"No, but it shouldn't be about the money," Nick countered, his voice completely level. "It should be about Zootopia."
Pride swelled inside Judy, and she pushed herself closer to the fox in happiness. "Nick, that's…you're fantastic."
"Among other fabulous traits." After a few seconds of a toothy grin, Nick's smile faltered a bit—he glanced down toward the moving figures in the laptop screen. "But, he's fine, I suppose. I understand why he's doing what he's doing. But like you said, maybe I'm not trusting of him and…a little protective of you and your tiny, fragile bunny heart."
Judy scoffed lightly, a bit amused. "Of my heart?" What a strange thing to say.
"Yeah."
Judy thought for a moment as she curled her blanket tighter around her body; she was way too warm, but the weight of the cloth provided her much-needed comfort.
"Nick," she finally let herself say, "yesterday, you were very…very open."
"I know."
Judy blinked at his blunt reply, a bit stunned. "Especially about Jack."
Nick didn't say anything in reply this time; he just kept watching the episode with a half-lidded gaze.
"What makes him different, Nick?"
The fax didn't reply for one long moment; he let his shoulders falter, and then pop up and down into another nonchalant, sluggish shrug.
"Not sure," he admitted, the half-lidded eyes glancing towards her and offering a small smirk. "But what I do know is that you would trust any official sliding in with a badge of any kind."
"Maybe you're being openly defensive because now you have an awesome best friend you want to protect," Judy offered, giving her best friend a small smile and a small nudge of an elbow through her blanket. "Though, I can't imagine why. I can hold my own."
"Against a grizzly bear, maybe." Nick was giving her a lighthearted snicker, peering back down at her with his smirk curling wider. "But you've got a big heart, Fluff, and you wear it on your sleeve. If Double-Oh-Bunny ends up not being who we think he is, you'll be pretty hurt."
Judy felt her ears flush; but if there was one thing she had gotten better at since becoming Nick's friend, it was choosing her battles. "I can admit that," she chuckled begrudgingly. "Though yesterday, you seemed pretty apt to wear your heart on your sleeve too!" She crossed her eyes and hunched over her shoulders, squeaking out in an old-man voice, "Don't let them see that they get to you, Carrots…"
"If I didn't regret every moment of it before, I sure do now," Nick quipped, rolling his eyes; but the genuine smile and throaty laugh he had obviously couldn't be helped. "Saying that stuff to Sam alone is enough to make me cringe."
Speaking of… "Um…Nick?"
The fox was noisily sucking the last of his blueberry smoothie, his cup tilted so the end of his snout was completely hidden. He looked at her sideways; his green eyes were prettily reflecting the light of Judy's laptop screen and veiled by his half-lidded gaze. "Nnnyeah?" he asked into what remained of his drink.
"I…know I've bothered you about this before," she mumbled, turning her face away from him and digging her chin into her blankets. "But, I want to know…You don't have to answer, I'm just…" She looked back up at him.
He was cocking an eyebrow; his eyebrows were nice, thick. Judy wished she had eyebrows more like his.
"…I'm asking permission to ask you…a bit of a sensitive question." She gave a short, awkward laugh. "Well, another one."
His nice eyebrows raised almost off his forehead. "Oh, I see. And what is this about, Officer Hopps? I assure you, my hustling days are over; whatever you've got on me, I was framed. I've turned over a new leaf, you see."
"Heh, no." Judy could feel a ghost of a smile slide across her face at his antics, but nonetheless felt her ears lowering. "Your…mom." She shifted uncomfortably. "It's about your mom."
Then, Judy could practically hear the bang¸ bam of Nick's walls raising up and setting themselves firmly in place; her heart whimpered.
Nick blinked, pausing for only a moment. Then he tossed up his cup against his muzzle again, sending the last few drops of blueberry smoothie down his throat; the air had grown denser, so much more serious. Judy hated when this happened. She had learned so much about reading mammals from Nick himself—but his own walls were so incredibly impenetrable that when he put them up, the only thing she could sense was that something was wrong. It drove her absolutely insane.
He lowered his cup, resting it on his stomach as he gazed at Judy's laptop screen; the episode was ending with Ms. Fletcher and the beaver sheriff discussing something abot a raffled television set. Judy was impatiently waiting for him to say something, anything; she could feel her foot become tempted to vibrate.
Finally, he opened his mouth to speak; his teeth glinted. "Sorry, Officer Hopps," he muttered plainly. He still didn't look at her. "You'll have to come back with a warrant."
… … … … …
I would like the start off this AN on a slightly serious note: it was brought to my attention by a dependable reader that Nick may have been a bit uncharacteristic with his openness in the last chapter. Part of me did mean to do this, because I was thinking "Well this feeling he has has never happened to him before; I want it to have such an impact on him that he feels a need to act differently, or that he can't help it". There is also the fact that two chapters happened within a seven hour period, so I thought that it could be perfectly possible for Nick's walls to falter for that short amount of time…But then again, it probably would have been more accurate for Nick to have instinctively put up his walls instead of being more open and angry. So in this chapter, I sought to—maybe not fix it, but manipulate and explain the situation to seem more plausible for it to happen. Hope it worked?
I don't know if Judy would actually like the name Beatrice…but it's my first name, so I'm gonna say she would. :)
The episode of Murder, She Wrote that Judy and Nick watched was called "Murder Takes The Bus". The main character is played by Angela Lansbury, who does in fact play Mrs. Potts in Beauty and the Beast. How freakin' adorable is that? Who wouldn't love a show about Mrs. Potts being an amateur detective and solving murders? No one, that's who. :):):):) Sorry for the episode spoilers.
Remember how I said I would post links to pictures? Here's a late Christmas present! (Very late…sorry…) Love you guys, I hope you all had happy holidays—and have a happy New Year!
