Fox Point

by MaveriKat

Those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it but so are those who cannot let the past go. With the rise of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative, one vixen is going to be uprooted from what she knew to live and breath the tenants of the ZPD: Trust, Integrity, and Bravery. Even if the city doesn't believe she can. Rated M for Violence, Adult Language, and Adult Situations.

15. Rude Awakening

Disclaimer: "Zootopia" is owned by the Magical World of Walt Disney Pictures and Walt Disney Animation Studios. The "Sly Cooper" videogame series is owned by Sony, Sucker-Punch Productions, and Sanzaru Games. There are also aspects that will be borrowed from or directly inspired from Zootopia's pre-production works and concepts from Nicolaswilde's "Zistopia" Tumblr blog. Said story itself is a fan-based non-profit work of fiction written strictly for entertainment purposes only. Please support the official releases. Thank you.

Fox Point

By MaveriKat & Nanya
Beta Read By Innortal

Chapter 15: Rude Awakening

Looking out the small circular window of his room on the second floor of the family's tailoring business a young fox looked out his window at the rainstorm outside. The torrent of water was an absolute deluge that showered down powerfully. He had been put to bed over an hour ago, but the thunderstorm wouldn't let him rest. The heavy pelting of rain interjected by a sudden crack of lightning that illuminated his room and the following boom of thunder was too much to ignore. He curled up underneath his blanket, just staring at the window; his ears twitching wildly as they took in all the noise of thick raindrops splattering against his window echoed within his bedroom. Nicholas was doing his best to calm down as he didn't want to be shocked again.

His right paw reached up and idly scratched at the Tame collar around his neck.

The little kit finally sat up in his bed when the second burst of thunder seemed to practically shake and the earth around him; the window itself rattling violently. Biting his lower lip in a nervous fashion, the young fox carefully slipped out from under the covers before crawling down from his bed. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the small fox cub quickly rushed towards his parents' bedroom. He didn't want to be alone at a time like this. The weather outside was just too scary and fear would just bring more pain.

Yet before he could even make it to their living quarters, he heard crying. The small red fox's ears swiveled atop his head as he tried to focus on source of the weeping. Turning his head towards the kitchen, young Nicholas made his way in the direction of the eating area. As he entered, the boy frowned as he saw his mother at the table, hunched over the furniture as she had her arms crossed atop it; face buried in her forearms as her shoulders trembled. A frown pulled at the corners of his muzzle as he realized she was crying.

Needless to say, the little boy didn't know why his mother was sad but it upset him in turn. Carefully, the kit in pale green pajamas made his way over to the woman. His right paw reached up before gently grasping onto the material of her skirt and giving it a tug. "Mama?"

Francine didn't answer; possibly didn't even register that her son was in the room with her. Instead she let out a cry as her whole body jolted with the shock of electric charge, causing the room to become illuminated for a moment as her collar went off. As the vixen's body went rather flaccid against the table once more, the woman continued to weep into her arms, the woman irrevocably distraught as her damn collar continued to let off a repetitive beeping noise.

Now thoroughly confused, the boy released his grip on his mother's dressed and took a step back, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he could hear it echo in his ears while his Tame Collar began to beep and shine with a yellow light in warning. Even if he didn't understand what was going on, the boy was smart enough to realize that something was terribly wrong. Without a second glance at his mother, the kit turned around and ran straight towards their bedroom. "Daddy?" He called out, his bright green eyes wide with fear as he looked around for his father, only to find the room empty.

The kit turned away as quickly as he could from his parents' room before rushing along the small hallway and to the staircase, going as fast as his short little legs would carry him; tail slapping against each wooden step as he bounded down them. His heart continued to beat a mile a minute as he saw no one downstairs, the lights of the building off. He bit his lower lip, eyes darting around in the darkness as his night-vision allowed him to see within the shadows of the night.

It was when the lighting struck again that young Wilde noticed the outline of his father, decked out to the nines in his full suit. The mammal standing by the front window still; hands behind his back as he gazed out into the rainy streets of the Happytown District.

"Daddy!" The boy yelled as he leapt from the second-to-bottom step and landed on the ground with a loud thump. He pumped his arms as he dashed across the floor board with enough force that he made them creak.

The older mammal's once flattened ears raised up and he turned his head at the noise. His eyes widened as he saw the young fox cub rushing to him. "Nick!" He hissed as he turned about to face his son fully. "What are you doing here? You should be asleep!"

The young kit paused in is tracks, surprised at the immensely sad look on his father's face; the tear treks in his father's facial fur readily apparent. Still, the six-year-old was on the ball enough to answer, "I... I couldn't sleep with all the rain and lightning. And then I found mama crying in the kitchen and she got shocked! I ran around but I couldn't find you!" Although he was nervous, the boy continued to make his way towards his dad, closing the distance between them. "Pops, what happened?"

Taking a deep enough breath that his chest practically inflated to twice its size, the adult vulpine then exhaled, allowing even his shoulders to sag. "Nicholas," he said his son's name in a soft tone. "No matter what happens... I love you."

The confusion on the kit's face was readily apparent. He walked up to his father and hugged him tightly around his legs. "What's going on, Daddy?" He frowned as his paws gripped tighter onto this father's pant leg. "Is this because of what happened at the bank?"

As the words of his son's worry played on his conscience, the adult red fox brought his left hand reached down, gently stroking the young kit's head. "I know what you're thinking, Nicky. Sometimes we ask ourselves, 'Why we can't we be like the prey mammals? Normal, accepted, and free?' But what I've come to understand is you have to ask yourself something truly important, my son: Why do you need to be like them?" As his son looked up at him, the adult gave his boy a wry smile and continued to stroke his hair. "The thing is life is unfair and you need to depend on yourself to survive it. Even when someone decides to extend the olive branch in one paw, remember they're holding a dagger behind their back with the other, ready to strike."

The buff vulpine male then lowered himself down to his knee, giving his son a tight hug in his muscled arms. "I'm going to need to you to be brave, Nicky. Your old man is going away for a while and I need you to be a good boy for your mother. Can you do that, sport?"

Raising his small arms up to hug his father around his neck, the red fox kit chirruped, "Where are you going Daddy?" He nuzzled the larger fox as he then questioned, "Why can't Mama and I go with you?"

"I'm just... going away." He sighed as his arms squeezed around his child a little tighter. "Trust me, Nicky. You don't want to go where I'm going."

Nick tightened his arms around his father's neck as tightly as he could, not wanting to let go. However, even as he stayed there with his father for a while, a new source of light began to flash through the window, illuminating the ground floor of the shop as the sound of sirens filled the air. The little fox opened his eyes to see the flashing red and blue lights of police cars.

Letting off a heavy sight, the man eased up on his hug. Bringing his hands to the boy's shoulders, he pushed him back slightly so he could look into the child's bright viridian eyes with his own. "I love you, Nicky. I love you and your mother so much." He leaned in and kissed his son on the forehead before standing up. His paws moved to the lapels of his suit jacket, flattening them out before moving to his neck, straightening his tie. "Stay back now. You don't want to get caught up in this."

With that said, the young fox watched as his father turned towards the front door and opened it, stepping out of their home and onto the streets. Ever curious, the young fox moved over to the front display window of the shop, his eyes gazing out to where his father was being pelted by the heavy rain as the streets were slowly filled with police cars; four already blocking off the front of the home while dozens more filled the streets to block off the store.

A male ram in ZPD uniform got out from the driver's seat of police cruiser directly opposite the front door. The horned police officer stared at the fox from behind the lenses of his tinted glasses. "Johnathan Wilde?"

Looking around at the show of excessive mammal-power, the vulpine chuckled. "All of this for little old me, huh?" Taking a moment to tug at the cufflinks of his sleeves, the predator than shook out his arms, making certain he still looked his best, even for the proverbial firing squad. "Yeah, that's me. Honest John Wilde. You?"

"Officer Flocksworth," the uniformed bovidae replied as he took a set of handcuffs off his belt. "Down on your knees and hands behind your head, Wilde. You're under arrest."

Although he did as told as he kneeled down onto the soaked sidewalk, the vulpine decided to inquire, "On what charges?" He smirked. "Granted, I know they were going to do this, I merely wish to know what excuse that fucking asshole from the Zootopia National Bank is using."

Although he frowned at the predators use of coarse language, he still acknowledge the request. "What do you think?" The ram snorted. As he came around behind the vulpine, he took hold of the fox's right arm and slapped the cuffs around his left wrist. "You're under arrest for aggravated assault, vandalism, harassment, tax corruption, and conspiracy to commit embezzlement." He then slapped the cuffs on the vulpine's right wrist, firmly binding John's arms behind him. Forcefully pulling the man to his feet, the ram bleated, "Now get moving!"

Grunting as the horned prey mammal pushed him towards the vehicle, the male fox looked behind him at the officer. "What? Not going to read me my Miranda Rights?" He asked snidely. "I mean, if you're going to slap be with a number of false charges then you might as well follow protocol full~AAAARRRRRGH!" He roared out as his Tame collar went off, hitting him with another shock. He would have fallen to his knees if the ram hadn't been holding onto the fox's shoulders to lead him towards the police cruiser.

"A Chomper doesn't have rights," another officer said, a gray-furred boar wearing body armor that was adored in the colors of the ZPG and decked out with the term, 'TUSK' over the chest-plate declared as he held a remote control device aloft, aimed at the mammal. "Just consider yourself lucky we even deign to take a useless pelt like you in." He then pressed his thumb down the red button on the device once more, causing John to scream out in agony as the collar went off again, the neck restraint electrocuting him without the need for the usual biological or emotional trigger prompting.

The male ram actually had to yelp and release his grip of the fox, allowing the mammal to drop like a sack full of bricks. He then brought his cloven hooves together, vigorously rubbing them. "Sweet Cheese and Crackers, Razorback!" He bleated angrily. "Are you trying to kill me or something? My hooves were right by the damn thing!"

The boar let off a snort. "It's your own fault for not handling a predator properly. You were treating him with the respect reserved for one of Gouda's precious prey animals instead of the contempt a heathen, meat-eating creature like him deserves!" Glaring at the horned herbivore, he firmly declared, "And that's Captain to you, Officer." Appeased as the ram turned his head to avert his gaze form his superior officer, the porcine police-mammal then walked over to the downed, trembling fox. "Now get up you lazy bum! Get up! You do not want to force me to carry your worthless hide to the car. If I do, it's because you have no ability to walk."

Panting deeply for much needed breath, the adult fox turned his head, looking at the cloven hooved feet of the warthog that was purposely shocking him again. "You... won't get away with this..." he said between strained gasps for air.

Watching as the fox squirmed about the asphalt street as the rain continued to come down, the boar with a series of scars over the right side of his face smirked in a rather devious manner that would have been more in place on the predators he hunted. "Of course I will. I am the law."

Nick bit his lip as he watched his father lit up for a third time; a number of other uniformed mammals starting to gather around, all brandishing nightsticks. "Daddy..." he whispered as thunder struck. Almost as if the lightning were a signal, the gathered officers began to beat his father right in the city streets, arms rising and falling in tandem with one another as their police batons struck the vulpine in the center of the crowd over and over again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

His eyes snapping wide open, Nicholas awakened with a start; his blurred vision coming into focus enough to reveal the wall of the hotel room. His heart was hammering within his chest, as his eyes darted about as if looking for his fears made real. The desire to cry out was strong but his mouth was completely dry from all the alcohol he had the previous night; not a drop of saliva to be had even though he could feel the cold sweat on his brow. He brought his right paw up, carefully wiping his forehead as dry as he could before just holding it there.

Truth be told, he wanted to cry for the loss of his youth's innocence. Memories were always a painful thing for him to relive, especially that one. It's the damn wine's fault, the male red fox thought bitterly, trying to calm himself as he held off tears. His father's arrest was a long time ago and nothing was going to change it... or bring the man back. He usually put it to the back of his mind, but he supposed to alcohol wore down his defenses a bit more than he would have expected. He needed to get control of the situation. Nick promised that he could never let anyone see they got to him... not even himself.

So closing his eyes the predator began concentrating on his breathing, the mammal inhaling and exhaling slowly. Slowly but surely, he was calming himself. I have to hand it to Kozlov, the crimson-pelted canid thought with a bit of relief as he settled himself back into bed. These are some nice sheets. Very warm and soft... the vulpine mentally praised as he leaned his head back into the impressively soft pillows. He didn't think the Arctic mammals that frequented this establishment would be comfortable with anything that sustained heat but he sure as hell wasn't going to complain about it. It would make it easier to fall back asleep and give him the chance to postpone having to face another day in Zootopia a little bit longer.

However, when the male fox tried to roll onto his back to shift himself into an even more comfortable position, he found something was in the way preventing the motion. Smacking his lips a few times to try and force his saliva to start flowing again, the troubled tod reached back with his paw to grasp as what he thought were the sheets and comforter bundled up behind him.

Instead, he goosed something pliable to the touch yet firm... and a female voice made a small groaning sound from above him as his pillows began to shift. Even the blanket seemed to tighten around his chest. The pressure increased made the vulpine realize that he was in someone's grasp.

Nick's emerald eyes snapped wide open, all vestiges of sleep sapped from him in an instant. Yes, he had a thin layer of bed-sheets atop him but they were not the source of the warmth and comfort he was reveling in by a longshot. Turning his head left and right, the Wilde's pupils dilated to pinpricks as he realized he was being spooned by the Interpol Inspector and his sleeping arrangement was the larger woman.

Yes, those pillows that felt so comfortable were indeed pillows.

Gulping nervously, the fox carefully withdrew his hand from what he now realized was the lovely Latina's posterior, hoping he didn't wake her up as his arm shifted over her. No wonder I had several dreams of my time as a kit last night, the male canid thought with dread as he tried to slowly slip free of the vixen's grasp... only he cringe as her arms tightened further, her fingers digging into his abdomen fiercely to keep hold. "Eek!" He squeaked out as the woman craned her head forward, burying her face into the top of his head, nuzzling as she murmured something in her sleep. Nick couldn't help but shiver as he felt the rush of air travelling around his scalp as the woman breathed direction through his hair, practically inhaling his shortened pelt.

Nick tried to resume his calming breathing exercise again–now needed to calm other reactions than suppressing bad memories. And through it all, one thought came to mind.

I wonder if this is how Finnick feels most of the time.

Forcing that thought back down, the male vulpine quickly worked to take stock of his situation. The lovely orange-pelted vixen had him bound to her soft, comfortable body. So close that he could hear her slow heartbeat through her soft... warm...

His eyes snapped open again. It had to be her heartbeat! Because every time he concentrated on it, he felt so... relaxed...

His eyes snapped open again!

The liquor; Nick was blaming it for the fact he was having this reaction!

Mental note: tease Finnick that he has this issue as well... without mentioning I might too. He wondered if this was something that happened to all mammals that were being cuddled by larger, softer ones. He would have to look that up on his phone... that is, assuming it had a charge and Carmelita didn't kill him when she woke up. Neither of them had their phone chargers... maybe he could ask Mr. Cold if he would be willing to comp one for him? After all, fifteen bucks was nothing compared to a thirty thousand dollar bottle of Ice Wine...

...

...A bottle he now realized was standing upright on the nightstand beside the table, practically mocking the male red fox as it was prominently opened and empty.

Whelp, he thought with complete resignation. I'm dead. Kozlov is going to see he's down thirty grand and I neither got to sell nor remember tasting it, the male vulpine mentally griped. That was really the worst part. If he was going to have the big polar bear have his eye on him, at the very least the canid con-mammal could have enjoyed the reason he'd be catching serious hell.

However, the hapless hustler was suddenly reminded that he had to deal with a whole other hell he was in for as the lovely woman seemed to squirm in her sleep, her right hand flexing fingers in her sleep, idly scratching his belly just above the waistband of his undergarments. Wilde really needed to find a way to break free from the larger vixen's grip, ASAP! Not that he wasn't enjoying the close contact with Miss Fox, oh heaven's no! But he could guess how the woman would react to waking up in bed with him... practically naked while they were surrounded by empty bottles and chocolate wrappers; particularly Toblerone boxes...

...And was that a pizza box? He didn't remember ordering pizza last night. Just how much did we fudging drink!? Wilde wondered with alarm. It was almost enough to make him swear off alcohol in its entirety!

Empty ice wine!

Empty hotel boxes of food and sweets!

Pizza!

Just how much was he going to be down after last night!? Granted, he probably wouldn't and didn't plan to pay for any of it thanks to the resort owner's infatuation with the policewoman but he had been planning to sell some–if not all–of the stuff he took from the room's mini-bar. And he didn't know who paid for the pizza!

And the tip! What was paid for the tip!?

Get a hold of yourself, man! He growled as he mentally berated himself, angry at the fact he was such a mess. He was swinging between anger, fear, and confusion while often drifting off to sleep all the while!

None of which was going to get him to safety before an angry polar bear–or an angry female, which was already more dangerous than the former–found him in his current predicament

More than anything, Nicholas Piberius Wilde needed a game-plan. So taking a deep breath, the male fox considered his situation and options available to resolve this FUBAR situation. Fortunately, being an old hat at the game, the male fox was able to come up with steps a bit faster than most mammals would give him credit for.

Step 1: He had to pull himself free of the vixen that was holding him like a safety stuffed animal.

Step 2: He needed to get dressed.

Step 3: He would launch all the empties out of a window and hopefully to a nearby rooftop, thus hiding all evidence. With how often it snowed in the Tundratown District, the stuff would be lost to everyone within the hour!

So with that plan in mind, Nick began to do his best to slip free from the sleeping woman's arms. The pawpsicle hustler just needed to get away long enough to make her think he slept on the couch and he would be golden.

However, the Hispanic beauty's eyelids clenched and she grumbled irritably in her sleep in response to the man's body beginning to slide down. The hand which had been idly scratching him in her sleep suddenly clamped down tight and pulled up, forcing the male fox back into his previous position against her. When he was, Carmelita sighed in relief and went back to nuzzling the top of his head and then his neck as she pulled him up even higher.

For his part, the male fox was doing an excellent job at staying quiet, especially as she dug into his flat and soft belly with her strong fingers and firm claws. Granted, he such was mostly because he was biting his tongue to keep from screaming out but he wasn't waking her up! Okay, new game-plan, Wilde thought as he reached his arm forward for one of the actual pillows. He would try to pull that into the woman's grasp as he continued to slide down to pull the old switcheroo. If Harrison Ford could do such as Indiana Bones in the Temple of Doom, then I can certainly—

His eyes widening as his train of thought was most violently derailed as it went careening off the tracks, Nick relinquished his hold of the pillow to use both paws to firmly clamp his muzzle shut as she then woman bit down on his shoulder in a possessive manner. He couldn't help but whimper as the unconscious vulpine woman began murmuring around the mouthful of furred flesh she had a firm-fanged grip on, her teeth grinding down with the involuntary motions of her jaw as she spoke something incoherently.

This was it. Nick knew that now.

There would be no escape, no chance to see tomorrow. When the officer awoke, she would see them in their current position, and having almost tasted his blood, would strike him down. No more pawpsicles, no more schemes, no more helping Honey, no more jokes at Finnick's expense–especially about the book of them he had yet to publish.

Nope: the fox knew would die painfully this morning–either at Carmelita's paws or the hotel owner's.

But at least, when Nicholas passed, he knew his father would be there waiting for him and beaming with pride: his son went out with a hot vixen in bed with him.

Swing low, sweet chariot, he started to sing in his head. Coming to take me ho~oooome...

Fortunately, the bite seemed to let up after a few moments, the woman smacking her lips before letting off a little cough. Yawning, Carmelita's arms moved once again, feeling all over the smaller red fox's torso as she cuddled up with him as if he were a cub's stuffed animal toy. Fortunately, she didn't wake up from manipulating her hold of the more petite predator...

...Unfortunately, all the movement caused one of the empty bottles of wine that littered the bed to roll off and hit the floor with a clatter. The Hispanic vixen's ear twitched at the noise of glass hitting marble floor. While it didn't break and make a mess that would need to be cleaned up, the noise was enough to echo out and disrupt the woman's restful state.

Slowly, Carmelita opened her brown eyes, blinking her chocolate orbs a couple of times as consciousness returned to her: wondering why the hell her mouth was so dry and full of fur. Ugh... my tongue feels like I've been grooming myself as if I were some savage animal, she thought as she coughed out a bit of a hairball; before licking her tongue along the roof of her mouth to make sure she got it all. "Yikes... what the hell did I drink?" She murmured in irritation, noticing a coppery taste along her tongue that seemed completely out of place once her maw was free of fur.

The poor con-mammal just twitched as he had a hairball splattered across his right shoulder. At least she doesn't seem all that aware of her surround—

"Wilde?" Came the vixen's rather surprised query. "Just what are you doing in bed with me?" She asked in a dull, blunt tone that was one part curiosity, two parts confusion, and three parts hangover.

A thousand ideas went through his mind at that moment: ninety-percent of which involved how gruesome his death would be, five-percent being what sort of tales kids would make up about it and the remaining five-percent involving ways he might try and escape with himself still intact, and where he might have to move to or disguise himself as, in order to survive her pursuit.

Sadly for the experienced street hustler, there was just enough alcohol still present in his system to make him answer honestly and without forethought. "I've been asking myself that all day."

Inspector Fox blinked at that, her mind still hazy, as her eyes moved to try and take in the situation. She paused almost immediately, as she caught sight of her hairball, forcing her to close her eyes and quell her rebelling stomach.

Finally releasing the smaller fox so she could roll onto her back, Carmelita brought her right hand up to her face to rub it. Groaning as she tried to pinch the bridge of her muzzle to try and release some of the pressure that was currently pulsing in her head, the Latina vixen murmured rather impolitely in her native tongue, "Vete a la mierda con un gancho de carne." Taking a deep breath, the woman then calmly asked in English, "Please tell me we didn't have sex last night."

Nick blinked his eyes once, twice... that really hadn't been the response he had been expecting. Realizing that he only had one shot at this, he decided to forgo manners and check for one certain bit of proof. So without preamble, the male vulpine slipped his hand under the bed sheet and inside of his underwear and felt himself up. "We didn't. Bone dry... no pun intended," Wilde quickly amended as he heard the groan from the woman. "Which means we neither had sex nor did I–fortunately–piss myself in my sleep."

He frowned as something felt off. Not his junk, thank Gouda, but his undies. Frowning, the male fox brought his hands up to the top of the blanked and flipped the sheets down to look at himself... and went immediately went flush with embarrassment.

Opening her eyes as she felt a sudden shift of cold air from the naturally frozen environment of the Tundratown Distrist, the vixen was about to ask what Nick was thinking... only to have the words die on her lips when she caught sight of what her fellow fox was gawking at.

Finally, after an uncomfortable moment of awkward silence, the Latina vixen was able to finally say, "Well, now I understand why they had you working at a Victoria's Secret. My panties actually look good on you."

Nick just stared at them.

Yes, they were comfortable.

But Nick realized something that, even being caught in such an incredibly embarrassing situation, still gave the man hope–and not the way Finnick would propose said hope. If the woman was laughing, she wasn't shooting/throwing him out a window/ripping him to shreds and wearing his skull like a post-apocalyptic warlord. She was calm, rational, and likely to let him live.

Heck, if the male red fox played his cards right, Carmelita might even keep quiet about the underwear he now had on–which, frankly, was more important. Dead was dead but his rep was almost all the canid con-mammal literally had!

And he knew his fennec friend would probably place it on his tombstone. Here lies Nicholas P. Wilde: Died while wearing women's underwear.

Considering the humiliated mammal currently sharing the bed with her had her underwear on, the vixen pulled down the sheets over herself, revealing a pair of red-striped white boxers. "Okay, seriously now..." she huffed out in irritation. "Just how much did we drink that we ended up stripping down to our underwear... and then how the hell much more that we ended up switching them!?"

The crimson-pelted canid gave his fellow fox a noncommittal shrug. "...Personally, I'm more upset that we ordered pizza and I don't remember eating any of it," he said in all seriousness as he lifted his foot to kick said box. The male vulpine then blinked his viridian eyes as he realized it didn't just go flying and, with rekindled hope, he turned himself over atop the mattress and crawled over to it. Flipping the lid of the box open, his emerald gaze shimmered as he saw, "There's still half the pie here!" He pulled a slice free and began chomping down. Mmmm! Triple cheese! He thought with glee as he chomped down on the American-Italian bliss. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about pizza that made it taste even better the following day... even cold!

For her part, the Hispanic vixen practically gagged as she watched her fellow red fox eat. Her eyes were slowly drawn to man's ass where her panties crawled up the crack like a thong for a few moments–because it was still easier on her flip-flopping stomach than watching him gorge on old greasy pizza–the vulpine woman slowly assessed the situation for what it was. When the female red fox finally managed to brace her stomach against the urge to vomit, the canid cop then asked, "How the hell can you still eat!? I want to barf just watching you!"

Chomping feverishly for a few seconds, the male fox swallowed fiercely; a bulge visibly sliding along his throat as he did so. With his mouth free of the immense amount of cheese, he heartily replied, "Old college trick: eating greasy food the next day helps with the hangover. The grease soaks up a lot of the processed alcohol and keytones in your stomach, acting as a proverbial reset button."

That bit of information made the vixen raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh?" The lovely Latina chirruped, interested by what her fellow vulpine said. "You learned about this while in college?"

Nick evaded the subject by chomping down on another slice while up a third piece towards the vixen. He had gone to a college or two, yes. However, he had never been there as a student–except if one included high school and as part of a tour. It's just that colleges were known for cheap parties where a mammal could sneak in for even cheaper drinks.

There was also the fact drunk frat animals loved pawpsicles and whatever else he was selling. Well, drunks and mammals who were too busy, 'expanding their minds' like that Yax fellow who ran the Mystic Oasis Spa in the Sahara Square District.

"What can I say? College isn't just for book-learning," he smoothly replied in a confident fashion. "I would offer you this slice to help with the headache but if you can't control your stomach enough, it'd just be a waste." He politely left off the fact that she had tossed up enough fluids on him already, thank you very much!

The woman looked at the pizza slice and cringed for a moment before nodding her head. "Yeah... give me a bit. I think I'll wait until breakfast proper..." the orange-pelted vulpine murmured as she started to head towards the shower, gazing about the room as she did. She paused when she caught sight of her bra hanging on the lampshade and gently reached up to pull it down before tossing it over her shoulder. "I'm going to take a shower. Can I trust you not to get into any further trouble without me around?"

Chewing a mouthful of cold pizza thoroughly before swallowing, the male red fox straightened up in his sitting position and gave the woman a mock salute; the raised hand still holding half a slice as he did so. "You can count on me, Inspector Fox!"

Nodding her head firmly and causing her messy navy blue tresses to bounce and wave with the motion, the woman replied, "Good. And for the record, you can keep the panties for now," she said in all seriousness as she continued to make her way to the bathroom. "Wash them and return them at a later date. I'll do the same with your boxers."

As she shut the door, Nick looked around for his pants. He certainly wasn't going to wear the panties any longer than he had to, and was willing to go commando until he could get back to Clawhauser's and grab a new pair.

Besides, if he was questioned about the bottle or bottles of wine, he'd rather not be found still wearing them if Vinsent and the polar bears who worked hotel security decided to perform a strip search. When Honey told me to always wear clean underwear in case I got in an accident, I'm pretty certain this is not what she meant.

Finally discovering the location of his pants–the garment twirling around on the ceiling fan–the fox left off a sigh. He had no clue how they got up there but Wilde had no time to spare. After all, he had evidence to throw out the window as well.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I should have known this place wouldn't have any hot water..." the vixen murmured with a grimace as fingers quickly scrubbed the shampoo out of her hair; the sudsy mess collecting by the drain in a mass of foam. At best, she could get the shower's water to room-temperature... and that was STILL pretty damn cold!

Tilting her head back, the Latina red fox winced as the shower head rained down on her face, getting the last traces of shampoo fur gel out of it. On the plus side, it does help one wake-up fast, she mentally admitted to herself. Her stomach was feeling less queasy as she was submitted to an unending frozen spray of icy-cold water.

Her hands reaching forward for the handle, the orange-pelted vulpine grasped the lever and turned it all the way to the right, shutting off the deluge of cold water. She trembled for a bit and involuntarily shuddered, trying to shake the liquid out of her pelt. "Maldición, eso es FRÍO!" She cried out in irritation as she pulled the sliding shower door open. She quickly stepped out onto the nice and fuzzy bath-mat, and grasped the bear-sized towel she had placed there before showering, the woman doing her best to use it to dry off.

Seeing her breath hanging in the air as she toweled herself down, the Latina vixen twitched; both in irritation and from how cold she was. "Jesús Cristo! I don't care how nice this place is, it's going to give me a cold at this rate," she grumbled irritably as she made her way over to the sink and turned on the hot water handle full blast.

At least the towel helped trap her body heat a little better than just wet water. And even better, it was big. She could have had to deal with a tiny towel that barely covered her nipples and her crotch like in all those TV shows. Or like what Sly sometimes left me with when he was purposely late with doing the laundry, she thought with annoyance... and honestly, a little mirth. It was nice knowing he appreciated her fine figure, Miss Fox just wished he merely asked to join her in the shower rather than leaving her with itty-bitty washcloths!

Realizing that slightly above room-temperature was the best she was going to get from the tap-water, the vixen gave up. Slowly snaking her left hand out from the massive wrapping of ursine-sized towel, the Hispanic beauty reached for the complimentary took brush before her left came out to grasp the bottle of toothpaste.

In little time, the vulpine beauty had her teeth brushed and the horrible flavor of wet fur and copper completely replaced by the fluoride aftertaste of the hygiene product. She leaned forward, scrutinizing herself in the mirror, carefully trailing her tongue over the now smooth, pearly-whtet fangs of her smile. "Everything looks okay..." she murmured as she went about to get dressed in her panties and... Wilde's boxers.

Seriously, why the hell did they end up doing that?

Although the better question: when did they decide to get naked so they could do that!?

She had been so flabbergasted by everything that she hadn't noticed nor given a damn that Nick had seen her topless. "Then again, he's already seen me completely naked once..." she grumbled as she slipped the boxers on.

...

...She really needed to have him install a buzzer to the bathroom.

Well, it could have been worse, the Hispanic vixen surmised. She could have been, 'scratching an itch' when he walked in on her and he really didn't need him seeing her doing THAT.

Having Sly walk in on her doing that a number of times was too much to deal with as it was. How many times did he sneak in on me doing that again? Eight? Sheesh, that stupid horny Ringtail, the vulpine woman thought to herself. The damn raccoon seemed to have a radar sense for when she was, 'in the mood'. Of course she never could quickly take care of herself and be done with it. The naughty nocturnal predator had to jump on her whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"Still, I have to give credit where credit's due..." she murmured quietly as she rewrapped herself in the towel. "I always felt loved while we were together." She looked over herself to make sure she was decent enough before exiting out of the bathroom to retrieve the rest of her clothes.

Needless to say, the Hispanic vulpine beauty went wide-eyed as she saw Nicholas standing on the ledge of the open window in only his tie a pair of pants. "WILDE!" She screamed out in shock, feeling her heart skipping a beat as he stood on the frost-covered windowsill in a precarious position. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?"

"GAH!" Nick yelped as he nearly lost his balance while dangerously balanced on the window-frame. Throwing himself backwards, the male red fox saved himself as he fell into the room, gasping out as the white garbage bag he'd been holding crashed atop his torso. Blinking his viridian eyes once, twice, the vulpine male tilted his head back, pressing his scalp to the floor as he looked towards the direction of the lovely Latina lady. "Oh... hey, Carm... have a nice shower?" The con-mammal queried, hoping he could cut her off from asking him any undue questions with one of his own.

Staring down at her fellow red fox, the woman slowly answered, "Not really. The water never got too hot but that's beside the point!" She pointed at the open window. "One: that's absolutely crazy to stand up there this high up. Two: why are you even trying to throw garbage out the window!?"

"...To save the hotel maids some effort," Nicholas said rather quickly before offering her a sly smile. "We kind of made a mess in our drunken stupor and never let it be said that Nicholas P. Wilde didn't take care of his messes!" After all, such was why he would turn around and sell the used pawpsicle sticks to Cheese Construction in Little Rodentia as cheap lumber. It was recycle, reduce, and reuse at its finest!

Making her way over to the downed male vulpine, Carmelita ignored her clothes scattered around the room and lifted the bag off from atop of Nick. Untying the knotted plastic drawstrings, the vixen raised an eyebrow as she saw the numerous bottles and empty boxes and wrappers in it. "...Well, at least you have it all gathered up," she murmured as she retied the plastic garbage bag. "But just leave it for the staff. Littering in a fined offense, you know!"

"Ah, right..." the male red fox chuckled softly as he shook his head a few times. "Well, it's not like I was throwing them away because I wanted to avoid getting murdered or anything! Ah ha ha ha ha... ha... ha..." he finished lamely, the man beginning to sweat as he realized what he just said aloud. "STUPID ALCOHOL!" He finally cursed aloud in growing frustration.

The off-duty policewoman raised one of her navy blue eyebrows in response to that rather incriminating statement. However, she decided against her better judgment of asking what he meant and instead began to give him a pep talk. "Nick, trust me, you'll be okay. We ate and drank all of that together. I think as long as I was involved, then Kozlov will give you a... pass..." she trailed off as the bag itself began to shimmer with an orange light in her vision. Realizing this had kicked off her Inspector's Intuition, the female vulpine released her towel and opened the bag once more. She began shuffling through the contents outright before homing in on the one item that was sparkling with an orange illumination.

An empty bottle of Royal DeMaria...

Her tail going flaccid, the woman's left ear tilted to the side and twitched. "...We drank a thirty-thousand dollar bottle of wine." It wasn't a question.

Cringing, the male fox turned himself over. When he was upright in a sitting position on the floor with his legs crossed, he politely corrected, "A thirty-thousand dollar bottle of ice wine."

"...Well... I admit, that might be a tad harder to justify," Carmelita said as she stood straight up and involuntarily gulped. Dios bueno, how the hell were they going to justify this? Would Kozlov get too mad? Why was it suddenly chillier than before? Why was Nick blinking and smiling at her?

Seeing he had the woman's attention again, the crimson-pelted canid offered a little shrug. "Well, my boxers certainly look nicer on you than they do on me at least," the male vulpine commented. It seemed whenever things got tough, he did his best to laugh it off.

Rolling her chocolate eyes, the vixen groaned as she realized she had thrown off her towel in her haste to search for the source of the orange sparkles.

Gazing over the Hispanic beauty in bra and boxers, the pawpsicle hustler couldn't help but comment, "It's too bad though..."

That comment made Interpol Inspector blink her eyes curiously. "What? What's, 'too bad'?"

The vulpine male clucked his tongue for a moment, considering his words before he spoke. "... I'm not sure if it's the wine talking but it would have been a nicer situation to deal with if you weren't wearing a bra under that." As the woman stared, the fox offered a sheepish grin before he found himself buried under a wet towel that hit him in the face. The weight and sheer size of the bathing cloth caused the canid to crash to the floor.

"Hardy, har, har..." the vixen grumbled. Although the woman didn't say or even sow it, she was thankful to Nick for breaking the spike in tension. "Hopefully we can get Kozlov to look at it as having paid off the, 'interest' for what he feels he owes me then?" She suggested.

The mass of white towel bobbed with the motion of the red fox underneath it nodding his head. "That works," came the man's muffled reply. Giving up the chance for a future favor sure as hell beat having his kneecaps or thumbs broken, that was for damn certain!

Nodding her head as a game-plan was formed, the vixen began to gaze around the room, searching for the rest of her outfit. "Now then... where are my pants?"

His paw sliding out from underneath the towel, the male vulpine motioned towards the chandelier that hung above the living room.

Turning about to catch sight of her denim pants tangled among the masterfully constructed crystalline display, the Latina's left navy blue eyebrow lifted up high enough to where it disappeared in her hairline. "...How the hell did my pants get all the way up there?"

"Beats me," Nick replied before he started to pull the mass of white terrycloth off of himself. Turning his head left and right to look for the lovely canid cop, he then told her more clearly, "At least you can take solace in the fact yours didn't end up on the ceiling fan like mine had! I was stuck dealing with a moving target!"

Turning her head to gaze back at her friend, the Hispanic vixen queried, "Why didn't you just turn the fan off?"

Wilde opened his mouth to reply... only for it to hang there silently. "..."

The Latina sighed at her fellow red fox's quiet state. "...You forgot you could do that, didn't you?"

Clamping his mouth shut, the crimson-pelted canid lowered his head as his blush managed to make its way through his fur. His face flush enough to where he looked more cherry in coloration, Nicholas couldn't help but grumble, "Stupid alcohol."

Shaking her head good naturedly, the off-duty policewoman told her friend, "Okay, I now I have to wonder... how did we end up naked and not having sex if our clothes went everywhere like this?" The vixen knew this was going to bug her tremendously until she got an answer.

Tilting his head back to look at the ceiling, the con-mammal considered the woman's inquiry with interest. Such had been bothering him too–partly because while he was relieved he didn't get that far, it also saddened him slightly. "...Maybe we passed out before that happened?" Nick suggested before tilting his head to the side. "But that doesn't explain why I woke up wearing your underwear."

The female predator's left ear twitched as she considered that. "Well, we certainly didn't have sex. I'm not aching where I should... unless you're built like a rodent." She added as she began to make her way towards one of the couches, intent to climb up for a boost in height so she could get close enough to her garments.

The predatory mammal twitched slightly at being compared to a mouse where it wouldn't have counted. "Ouch. Et tu, Carmelita?" Nick asked as he theatrically threw both hands over his chest as if he'd been wounded. "I'll have you know that my little guy is now as, 'The Heart Breaker' for a reason!"

"No, that's what Sly's was," Carmelita replied as she stood on her tip toes and reached up, her fingers just missing the bottom hem of the jeans' left leg. She gritted her teeth and jumped up, grasping the pair of pants, intent to use her weight to pull it free...

...Only to end up swinging back and forth on the chandelier. "...Maldita sea..." she grumbled irritably at her slightly helpless state. On the plus side, at least her pants weren't tearing.

Tilting his head back, the male mammal stared up at his fellow red fox as she was held aloft by the ceiling decoration. "...Just how strong are those things?" Nick asked as Carmelita hung there for a few moments. "Seriously! I thought chandeliers were supposed to break off easily?" He stated firmly. "Aren't they fragile or something?"

Rolling her eyes, the woman sighed heavily as she slowly turned left and right and she remain suspended by the pant leg of her jeans. "It's not like what you see in the movies, Wilde. Frankly, with the types of animals that may stay here, this thing could probably hold up a polar bear's weight with ease," she replied honestly as she tugged on the pants, making herself bounce up and down as if she were on a bungee-cord...

...Which caused Nick's emerald eyes to happily follow the motion of her bouncing vixen tits. And to think, I got to sleep between those, he thought with a bit of pride. Admittedly, he was surprised just how lax she was with certain norms. Probably has to do with her being from Europe, he surmised. He could think of so many women that would have smacked him for doing that with them but the lovely Latina just such rolled with it, as if such were nothing at all.

Giving it a few more tugs, the woman growled as her pants refused to let go; they were really spun tight. Realizing, she wasn't getting her pants down any time soon at this rate, the woman growled irritably. "Damn it..." she mumbled under her breath. Grimacing, she then yelled aloud, "Nick! I need a favor!"

His ears rising up fully as his attention was piqued, the male vulpine quickly replied, "Yes?"

"Grab me a chair that I can stand on and brace it so it doesn't fall down." If the mammal had been a bit taller she might have asked him to be her chair... but then the Inspector immediately remembered how hard it was for him to even throw a fork of all things and had second thoughts. "Better yet, would you please get one of the bar stools so I can stand on it?"

"Right, right..." the male fox replied as he made his way over to the kitchenette area where the length of bar counter was set up. Grasping firmly onto two of the four wooden pegs of the stool on the end of the row, the crimson-pelted canid began dragging it along the floor and into the carpeted area of the luxury suite's living room space.

Hanging by the left leg of her pants, the vixen frowned as she watched her fellow predator take his sweet ass time carting the stool over. Worse, she could tell he was actually trying to be quick about it! "Okay, seriously Wilde... we need to get you a Gym membership or something. I could have just lifted that seat up and carried it over faster than you dragged it," she grumbled irritably as he finally set it up by her feet, allowing her to stand up and no longer put all her weight on the decorative lighting fixture.

Watching as she settled her feet down atop the chair, the male canid placed his hands on his hips as he tilted his head back. "Hey now, I'll have you know that I work hard!" Nick said in all seriousness as the woman turned her focus back to her jeans, unwrapping it from around one of the chandelier's crystalline extensions. "I'm also the sort of man that prides himself in working smarter, not harder!" He was a fox, after all!

Pausing in her attempt to free her pants, the vixen turned her head to gaze down at her fellow red fox. "Funny. I didn't see anything smart about you nearly committing suicide in your attempt to dispose of evidence."

Twitching male vulpine took a step away from the woman again, taken aback by the snarky response. "...Evidence?" He squeaked out; both his ears flattening back against his skull. That sounded like police talk. Accusatory police talk.

"Do you REALLY think that Kozlov aka, 'Mr. Cold' wouldn't notice that bottle of wine missing when inventory was done later?" The Hispanic woman asked, trying to get the man to think about what he did logically.

"...Plausible deniability?" The male vulpine offered with a nervous smile as he twiddled with his tie between his index and middle fingers of his right paw. Now more than ever, he wished he knew what happened to his own shirt. He was feeling more than a little exposed from the combination of lack of clothes and the woman pointing cold, hard facts.

The vixen's lips pulled back across her muzzle in a small frown. "That excuse might stand up in a court of law," the Latina woman admitted, the stool wobbling a little as she had to stand up on her tip-toes. Finally, when she pulled her pants free, the canid cop did her best to straighten them out, hoping that she hadn't overstretched and ruined them in her earlier attempt to untie them. "But do you really think someone like Mr. Kholodno would give a damn about what the law says? The same mammal who offered to hide dead bodies for me!?"

His tail going completely limp as his shoulders sagged, the male vulpine let off a little whimper. "I am never drinking this heavily around expensive things ever again."

The woman gave a small nod of her head, causing her navy blue tresses to bounce with the motion. "I agree," Carmelita agreed before letting off a little groaned. While she had her pants back, the woman still had no idea how they ended up naked. It wasn't like they were...

"Say, Nick..." the female red fox began slowly as she continued to pull on the denim material to smoothen out the wrinkles it got from having been wrapped.

His ears slowly rising up atop his head once more, the canid con-mammal chirruped, "Yes?"

"A thought occurred to me," she stated in all seriousness. "Are there any cards or something that would hint at us having played a game last night?" She asked as she lowered herself to sit on the bar stool. "Because we might have played strip poker."

"...Drunk strip poker?" Nick deadpanned, getting a nod from her. "...You've done that before?"

That got a shake of the head in response. "No, but it always sounded fun," the vulpine woman replied as she did her best to get to get dressed in her pants. She frowned as she saw that yes, she stretched the left leg out a bit as the heel of her foot was getting caught in the opening but it wasn't too bad. "A turn through the washer and dryer will fix this right up..." she murmured to herself before sliding off the stool to pull the jeans up a bit higher around her waist.

Turning about and walking away from the woman he had shared a bed with last night, the male red fox's emerald eyes began to scan about the room, looking for playing cards or anything like that. He was certain he would have come across something like that earlier when he was gathering up all the garbage to chuck out the window. "I have a better question though: we're finding our pants but where are our shirts? I came across your jacket; it's where you left it last night," he motioned to it being draped on the back of one of the white chairs in the living room. "But I have still yet to come across our actual tops."

Taking a moment to button her jeans, the Latina vulpine made her way back towards the bedroom. She came around to the side of the bed and gently kicked forward with her bare foot, frowning as the bed was solid against the floor. "Well, that was my first guess." She pulled the pillows back and shook her head. "Nope."

Having followed the vixen into the sleeping quarters, the male mammal raised an eyebrow as he watched the lovely lady give the furniture a kick; smart enough to not put much force into it for the sake of her toes. "Why did you kick it?"

"Because most beds where I'm from aren't reinforced to the floor... Though, again, it makes sense all things considered." Carmelita frowned. She didn't recall seeing her turtle-neck in the bathroom, which she was admittedly thankful for. Knowing her luck, it and her socks would have been in the toilet and the floor would be soaked for some reason.

She let out a soft, exasperated sigh. Stupid Police Academy hazing rituals, she thought with more than a little annoyance.

Fortunately, at least her boots were on a chair in the bedroom. Walking over to and picking them up, the vixen turned about and settled herself into the comfy piece of furniture before taking a moment to slide her right foot in–pausing as her toes began to crimp from a blockage. "And there's the socks..." she murmured as she took the boot off and reached her hand inside, pulling free the small bit of white foot garment.

Standing by the entrance to the sleeping area Nick slowly tilted his head, watching curiously as the vixen was covering her feet. "Say, Carm?" He chirruped, leaning into the door-frame let him lazily keep his posture upright as he crossed his arms over his bare chest.

"Hmm?" Inspector Fox chirruped, still working on covering her right foot. Wiggling her toes inside of her sock, the Latina woman then began to slide her right foot into the boot with ease. "What is it, Nicholas?"

"I've actually been curious about this for a while. Just why do you use footwear anyhow? Is that a thing outside of Zootopia? I mean, yeah I know such exists for certain occupations like the police department and firefighters but outside of job safety? About the only woman I've seen actually wear them regularly besides you has been Gazelle." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Just what is the big deal with them?"

The vixen frowned. It was simply a norm outside of the Zoonited States. Different cultures, different needs and all that... why there was even parts of Japan where they ONLY wore shoes and gloves! Still, he was asking about her personally so she replied, "Well, for one thing, they're durable and boots in particular don't wear out when I'm on my feet for ten hours or more a day." So saying, the vixen began to put on her other sock. "For another, well, have you ever been South of the Frost Line?" Seeing her fellow fox's confused look, she sighed. "Places where snow is so rare that the local governments shut everything down when more than three flakes touch the ground," she explained.

"Oh!" The male fox yelped, now understanding what she meant. "Um... to be honest, no," he replied. Having lived in Zootopia all his life, he was used to the excess of climate control year round. A mammal went to the District whose weather they felt like experiencing at the time or if they had to be there for one reason or another. "Why do you ask?"

"Parasites live in the ground and they dig through the pads of your paws and into your body down there," the Hispanic beauty said in all seriousness. "Good footwear is the only thing keeping you from needing a veterinarian visit." The vulpine woman then slid her other boot to emphasize the point.

Nick went wide-eyed before tilting his head forward to look down at his own bare feet. "I suddenly feel very, very naked..." he murmured. Not that he had anything against nudity. He was a card-carrying member of the Mystic Oasis for a reason. He never could get Finnick to join but Wilde supposed it was nice to make contacts of his own wherever he could. Gouda All-Bitey knew he got that Otterton fellow hooked on their pawpsicles.

Again, just like with the frat houses on the colleges campuses, those Naturalists on mind-enhancers just loved artificial cherry flavoring.

However, before the male vulpine could reminisce about his experiences letting everything hang wild and free, both red foxes blinked their eyes as the sound of ringing buzzed through the air. Turning their heads, the pair of red foxes gazed upon the desk in the room. There, the vixen's phone vibrated while Nick's lay there next to hers; the man's cell shut off. Pushing herself off from the chair, the Hispanic beauty made her way over to the desk and grasped her cell phone in her right hand. Turning it over, she slid her left index finger over the front of the screen before bringing it to the side of her head. "Hola?" She greeted. "This is Carmelita. Who is this?"

"Hello," a female voice spoke over the cell's earpiece. "This Room-Service calling. We have your laundry ready. May we drop it off?"

The vixen blinked her chocolate-colored eyes once, twice. "Laundry?" She queried, her curiosity piqued.

"Yes, a pair of shirts."

The Inspector's brown-eyed gaze went wide. "Oh! Thank you! Sure, bring them right up! Again, thank you so much." She pressed a button on the front of the screen with her thumb, disconnecting the call as she looked over to Wilde. "Apparently our shirts were sent to the hotel's laundry service."

That made the crimson-pelted canid stare at the female vulpine in shock. They needed to have laundry done too!? "...Just WHAT the hell did we do last night!?" Nick asked, clearly exasperated by all of this. "Next thing you know, we'll find out we purchased and launched a Cold War missile and ended the night with blowing up someone's car!"

Carmelita scoffed at the man's exaggeration. "Oh please! If I fired a missile, it would blow up more than just one car." She paused, genuinely considering some of her past exploits. "In fact, a whole parking garage would be more accurate..." she murmured as an afterthought.

The male red fox couldn't help but begin to sweat at such a statement. "Should I turn on the news and see if that happened or not?" He would like a heads up if he needed to get the heck out of Zootopia and lay low for a while... maybe he could head North to Canada...

The orange-pelted vixen blinked her bright brown eyes. "No. Not yet, anyway. I don't want to deal with anything until I've had a chance to get dressed and eat," she managed to reply before a knock was heard at the door. A very loud, firm repetition of knocking to be precise. "Hopefully that's our laundry..." she murmured softly as she looked over towards Nick. "Say, Wilde... would you be kind enough to get the? I'd rather not go flashing my bra to anyone."

The male snorted at the woman's display of feminine modesty. "Oh please! I ended up using your tits as a pillow last night. What's so bad about—GOING! I'M GOING!" He yelped, bringing his hands up in a warding manner as the gaze the vixen leveled at him was held the promise of absolute murder.

So doing as told and carefully backing out of the bedroom, the male red fox turned about and ran to the front door, pumping his little foxy legs as fast as he could manage in an attempt to save himself from the annihilation of a woman scorned. Once he was there, the canid con-mammal jumped up and grasped the door handle; using his weight to pull it down and unlock the door as left foot pressed against the frame and pushed it open.

Dropping down from the doorknob to quickly grab the ledge of the wooden barrier to hold it open, Nick was surprised to see the biggest, burliest polar bear he'd ever seen...

...in a dainty French Maid's outfit.

"Hello," said manly polar bear spoke out in the most surprisingly feminine voice that was laced with the thickest, sultriest Russian accent that the tod had ever heard. "I have laundry delivery for a Miss Fox." As she said that, she held up two white-bagged bundles by their coat hangers.

Relaxing a little, the male vulpine nodded his head in acceptance as he replied, "Yeah, that would be us. Miss Fox is inside getting her shoes on."

The Maid lowered her hand, offering the bagged garments to him. "Here you go." As he took hold of the two laundry-bagged garments, she couldn't help but tell him, "If I may be honest? It was a new experience, having to clean Royal DeMaria out of shirts. Foxes must be very rich to be able to afford using entire bottle for showering."

"..."

"...Sir, why is you crying?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I can't believe we wasted thirty-thousand dollars!" Nick wailed as he walked down the hallway alongside the taller vixen; both canids now fully dressed in their proper attire. "What the hell was I thinking!?"

"More like how drunk were we that you thought to use THAT to perform a wet t-shirt contest between us..." the vixen replied as she stayed in step with her fellow vulpine, her hand rubbing his back in a sympathetic fashion. "Fortunately, I think it's safe to say that Kozlov is laughing his ass off over this and he'll overlook the whole thing..." she then shrugged. "Although I can't say it'll do anything to help your reputation around here."

The male fox turned his head to look at his female friend. "You mean our reputation," he corrected, reminding the woman that she helped him waste said fine vintage.

"No, just yours," the woman insisted as she motioned the large outer ring that was still stained into her dark blue turtle-neck shirt. "According to the circumference and angle of this, you were the one who blasted me with the bottle!" She pouted. "Same stain outline nearly matches the pattern left on my bra too."

Looking down at her garment she was mostly keeping out of sight with her jacket, the male vulpine chirruped, "Really?"

Nodding her head, Carmelita explained, "I was top of my class in Ballistics Studies during my Academy Days training for Interpol." Come to think of it, she was top of her class in any study that involved firearms, period.

His shoulders sagging, Nick lowered his head and groaned in abject defeat. "I am so boned."

"Look at it this way," the Latina beauty said in all seriousness; the smile on her face absolutely devious. "You have now officially upgraded your status from, 'Cheap Date' to 'Expensive Date'..." she smiled and moved her hand up enough to gently poke his shoulder. "So expect your potential future significant others to want you to put out after the first date."

Rolling his eyes, the male vulpine groaned at the thought. If word got out about that, then it was certain ladies down the road would expect the same in return. "Great... I'm going to need a way to earn more money then," the pawpsicle hustler grumbled irritably.

Returning her right hand to rubbing her friend's shoulder to help ease his tension, the vixen gently cooed, "Oh there, there Wilde." Her fingers carefully ground into the muscle through his viridian Hawaiian shirt, trying to help ease his worries. "You will always be a cheap beer and pizza date to me."

Raising an eyebrow, the male vulpine turned his head to look at his fellow red fox. "Well, well... it appears someone's feeling a lot better." She had to be if she was coming up with such quips on the fly.

The woman nodded her head firmly. "And how," Carmelia agreed, relief evident to her voice. "No joke; I felt like I wanted to throw my guts up this morning. Ironically, that cold shower I hated really helped ease my body's tension."

Nodding his head in understanding, the male fox continued to walk down the hallway of the hotel floor, his emerald eyes darting back and forth at the rather white attire from both its snowy foundation and the choice of decorations. "You know, we should be thankful for one thing..." he began slowly, a smile creeping its way across his muzzle.

"What should we be thankful for?" The vixen queried. She then raised an eyebrow, looking at her fellow fox curiously as he suddenly started to snicker. "What's so funny?"

The smirk on his face now a full blown grin, the troublesome tod offered, "At least we only wanted our shirts washed. Imagine if we needed to have all our clothes cleaned!"

"...This morning would have made this morning a lot more awkward." Carmelita started to laugh at it though, finding the humor in such a situation. "Especially," the lovely Latina went on to continue for him. "You had to answer the door in my undies."

Finally coming to a stop before the elevator doors to so the pair of foxes could make their way back to the ground floor, the male vulpine brought his left hand up, using his index finger to press the down button. He then turned his attention back to his friend fully before he wagged that same finger at the lovely lady. "To be fair, I did find my tie... this thing can be a, 'banana-hammock' in case of an emergency."

Raising her right eyebrow up high enough that it disappeared into her mane of navy blue tresses, the vixen chirruped, "Que? Sounds like someone is speaking from experience..."

The answer she got came forth not from who Miss Fox was expecting. "You got that right," a deep baritone voice called out from the now open set of elevator doors. "I remember this one time Wilde literally got tarred and feathered when the locals thought some ice packs we made were sub-par. Only thing he had to save his dingle-dongle was his tie."

"Finnick!" Both foxes spoke up, turning to look about to see their friend standing there in the elevator car, arms crossed over his chest and looking like a little badass–especially with the sunglasses he had on. It was Wilde then went on to continue greeting, "Glad to see you're doing okay! What brings you up here?" He didn't think the fennec would have qualified for one of the luxury suites, even with Cherry as a reference.

Smirking, the desert fox brought his right paw up to the side of his head and tilted down his Ray-Bunny sunglasses, exposing his orange-amber eyes to his partner in semi-crime. "What do you think I'm doing here? I heard from the boys downstairs that you got the Presidential Luxury Suite, Wilde! Now let's go and raid that mini-bar!"

"No." Both Carmelita and Nick replied at the same time; the vixen raising her hand for a moment to catch the elevator door before it could close.

Crossing his arms over his chest in as an intimidating fashion as his tiny frame could manage, the petite predator frowned as he glared up at his partner. "And why not? I thought you guys were getting this, 'all expenses paid' as it were? You should be making the most out of those expenses for crying out loud!"

Watching as the vixen lowered her arm again, Nicholas then carefully began to explain, "We would but there's nothing left to raid."

The tiny tod blinked his eyes once, twice. "What do you mean there's nothing left to raid!?" The fennec cried out in aggravation, demanding an answer. As the doors started to close a second time, he brought himself up between them and pushed outwards with his arms as powerfully as his little body could manage. "Seriously! Nothing!?"

Thumbing over to the taller male, the Hispanic vixen bluntly replied, "He went as far as to use wine for a wet t-shirt contest apparently."

"HOW COULD YOU?!" Finnick screamed in horror... before a realization hit him like a sack of bricks. This would have been the min-bar for the presidential luxury suite. "OH MY GOUDA, HOW EXPENSIVE!?"

Looking down at the smaller predator, the male vulpine sighed in a tired fashion. Oh, he knew the little guy was not going to like this. "Thirty-thousand dollars a glass expensive," Nick replied. He then grimaced, ears flattening against his scalp to protect his hearing as Finnick let out a high pitched scream he didn't think was possible.

Her own ears disappearing within her expanse of navy tresses as they flattened against her skull, the Hispanic woman had to tell her fellow red fox, "Now don't be mean, Nicholas. It wasn't thirty-thousand a glass."

Finnick's squeal started to lessen... yes, he continued it but the actual level of shrill started to ease up.

"Just the whole bottle," the woman then explained, as if that made the situation better.

The desert fox's shrieking increased back to its prior decibel level.

Frowning as the smaller vulpine continued to wail as if it were the end of the world, the canid cop shook her head in annoyance. Slowly, she turned her attention back to the man in a viridian Hawaiian shirt. "You would think this never happened to him before," Carmelita murmured irritably.

Such merely elicited a shrug from the tie-adorned con-mammal. "What can I say? He and I have never been that drunk before," Wilde replied as he continued to keep his ears flat to drown out the cries of his smaller business partner. Turning his attention back to the small, wailing waif of a badass, Nick then tried to speak up loud enough to make sure the desert fox could hear him. "Easy, easy now! Seriously, ease up on the screaming, Zerdan!"

Cringing as the tiny carnivore continued to wail at the unfairness of life in general, Carmelita couldn't help but comment, "For such a tiny guy, he has quite the set of lungs." Really, the reason for his normally baritone voice now made a lot more sense to her.

Nodding his head in agreement, the male canid told the perplexed vulpine woman, "I always assumed eighty-percent of his body mass was said lungs!" Walking up beside his partner, he tried to get him to stop screaming by bribing him with a promise of free food. "Hey, Zerdan? If you stop screaming, Carmelita will use her newfound position of Patron Saint of the Kholodno Bratva to buy you breakfast!"

"I AM NOT THE PATRON SAINT OF THE KHOLODNO BRATVA!" The vixen screamed at the top of her lungs, feeling outright scandalized. Good God, she hoped no one in the ZPD found out about this, let alone her parents!

"...This had better be the best damn breakfast ever or I'm screaming so loudly that bulletproof glass will shatter," he threatened angrily. Obviously, he wasn't taking his partner's comment about the woman's standing amongst Tundratown all that seriously. His skepticism was understandable; he had known Wilde to blow smoke out his ass before–particularly with their customers–and the fennec had been caught off-guard by it before. "Especially since you wasted a thirty fudgin' grand bottle of booze for a wet t-shirt contest!"

With a grin spreading across his muzzle, Nicholas waved his hand airily in a light-hearted fashion. "Now, Finnick, have I ever lied to you? Don't answer that," the male vulpine quickly added as the smaller fox went to open his mouth to interject. "What I should say is, have I ever lied when it came to a meal?"

The tiny tod actually needed to takea moment to think about it. "...No, I'll give you that," he said as he held his hands out once more, pushing back the elevator doors as they tried to close once again. "When you say we're going out to eat, then we're going out to eat..." he murmured before glaring. "Except for last night! You owe me breakfast AND a pizza!"

"Sorry, Mr. Zerdan. We ate all the pizza," the lovely Latina apologized, causing Finnick to stare at her in shock. "Hey now, don't look at me like that. Nick ate it cold."

As the accusatory glare of the angered canid carnivore shifted his way, Wilde merely shrugged in a noncommittal way. "What can I say? Pizza is pizza... and I only remember eating the second half. The good Patron Saint of the Kholodno..." he smiled as he could hear Carmelita growl. "And I finished the first half last night during out drunken stupor!" He wagged his eyebrows as he added, "And let me tell you: girl can eat!"

Gritting her teeth at the man's blatantly false statements, the woman decided that if Nick was going to tease her, she could get him right back. Her clenched fangs slowly turned into a massive grin. "Yes, too bad we ended up getting too drunk. Otherwise you might have remembered what you did to get into my panties."

And just like that, Finnick's jaw dropped. Stepping out of the elevator and letting the door close behind him properly, he gawked at the two of them, his mind barely able to comprehend what she was saying. "You... you..." he started to stammer, raising his right hand to point an accusatory finger at his partner-in-con artistry. Seeing the taller fox begin to blush, the large-eared fox grinned. "You lucky son of a..." he trailed off, realizing he shouldn't say that–such would be an insult to Francine. "And you can't remember!?"

"Nope!" Carmelita continued before the male fox in question could get a word in edgewise. "It was such a shock to wake up this morning and realize he had gotten into my panties that I'm still trying to figure out how it happened. My pants were on the ceiling, for crying out loud!" Turning her head to her friend, the vixen then goaded, "Go on, Nick. Tell him. Tell your friend all about how you got into my panties. I'm sure you might remember..."

The pawpsicle hustler twitched considerably. Okay, it was a relief that she hadn't fully sold him out but Carmelita was really playing with fire on this one. If Finnick learned the truth, the little bastard would never ever let him live it down! "...Now, now Finny... you should know by now that a gentlemammal like myself never kisses and tells!"

Crossing his arms over his chest, the small desert fox didn't seem all that appeased by the taller vulpine's response. "Oh, come on! You can tell me! I mean, I'm your best buddy!" When Nick just stared at him, the petite predator snorted. Ah well, he would hear the details later when they weren't a think anymore. Now that Wilde got into her panties, his relationship with her was doomed for failure! Such was the way of the world: fish swam, birds flew, and Wilde ruined relationships with bad sex.

"So, about breakfast..." Carmelita started, wanting to get the group moving. She was starting to feel hungry. "Shall we be on our way?"

Turning his attention from his illegitimate business partner, the smaller vulpine looked up at the much taller, lovelier, and curvaceous vixen. "Depends... you actually buying?" He asked curiously. Watching her raise an eyebrow in response, the sandy-furred fox quickly pointed out, "Hey now! You promised me dinner last night and I never got to cash in on it. Besides, this place has a nice restaurant to use..." he smiled. "Hawaiian themed too!"

"Oh?" The Interpol Inspector chirruped, now a tad curious. "They serve Hawaiian-themed cuisine in an Arctic resort? Does that mean they have... pork?" She queried in a hopeful tone. Honestly, if they did, the off-duty policewoman would have been completely willing to overlook this small lapse in Kozlov's legitimization issues.

Shaking his head, the small fox replied, "Of course not. But we can get these delicious pineapple syrup-glazed tofu cubes!"

"..." I so need to start a, 'Free The Bacon' movement, the Latina vixen thought bitterly. If she was the sort that followed online multi-media platforms, she would have so been pushing a hash-tag for such the first day she arrived. "Well then, let's go?" She finally asked the pair as she reached up to hit the down button for the elevator once more. With having to talk to Finnick, they had lost the opportunity to use the shaft that turn.

It took maybe a solid minute but eventually the elevator car returned; the trio making their way into cabin area. It might not have been ice, but the crystalline look and air conditioning within made it feel like such. "Maybe we should have taken the stairs?" She asked, doing her press to suppress the shiver the chill of the space was trying to induce in her.

Although he found the elevator ride to be cold as well, Nick merely snorted. "From this floor? No thank you, my dear Inspector Fox. I've gotten enough exercise over the past two days to justify living as a couch potato for the next week!"

Nodding his head in agreement, the petite predator standing beside his taller vulpine partner let off a little grunt of annoyance. "Damn straight! As much as I love making money, I might just use the rest of this week to hang out and chill–that is, relax and not continue to freeze." Turning his gaze to look up at the lovely vixen, he told her, "No offense Carm but after getting shot in the ass, I need a few days to recuperate." Particularly the kind that included being pampered by a loving girlfriend.

"That's quite understandable," the Hispanic vulpine replied earnestly. Looking down at the tiny carnivore in return, the vixen tilted her head to get a better look at him. "Tell me, how did it go afterwards? The polar bears separated us and we never saw what happened to you, the sisters, or little Morris."

"Actually, it went better than I thought it would," the fennec admitted. "They mostly just asked us some questions since we were there. You know, simple things like, 'You see anything? Don't say anything to those who don't need to know and you'll be fine'. You know, stuff like that." Finnick then shrugged. Really, when it came to dealing with any mafia, he considered this one of the best likely outcomes for getting caught in a turf scuffle.

Nodding her head as she mentally filed away what the smaller man said, the vixen looked up at the elevator. They still had a few floors to go. "So, important question for you two: how are we getting home? Do we take a cab back to Largo's Pizza or do you think they'll give us a ride there for our, 'protection'?" It wasn't like they could just leave Mr. Zerdan's '71 Ford Lobos there. She could only imagine how many parking tickets it had collected by now.

A small smirk spread across the tiny tod's muzzle. "Don't worry about that. I already checked in with security," Finnick told her seriously. "Tell me, do you remember the big guy with the slightly melted face?" He dragged his right index finger alongside the side of his face beside his eye for emphasis.

The woman nodded, remember Kozlov's Head of Security all too well; he'd been one of the few polar bears that had been there for the sit down she and Nick had with the Snow Palace resort's owner. "Yes, I know Vinsent," the Inspector verbally answered. "What is he doing for us?"

Straightening up, the small fox explained, "Well, about that? He had a few of his men go down to Little Italy to tow the van all the way to the hotel. They had Cherry and I come down last night to check it out for ourselves to make sure everything was in order. We can leave anytime we're ready–after you pay for us to eat of course!" He said, making it well know he intended to get a free meal out of this, come hell or high water!

Nodding her head, the Latina vixen replied, "Yeah, it will get paid for all right." She sighed as she reflexively brought her hand up to her chest, to the ring she had hidden underneath her top and nestled within her cleavage. Honestly, she just wanted to get it off of her person and put somewhere safe as soon as possible. She doubted it would help her reputation in Zootopia if she was seen with a signet ring of a well-known Russian mafia group.

Finally, after a long journey down, the elevator finally came to a stop and the three vulpines were able to disembark. Making their way across the ground floor and amongst the tourists–nearly all Arctic mammals–-the trio soon found themselves in the adult dining area of the hotel, the small resting area a pentagon shape that broke off into four distinct restaurants. "Holy Gouda! There's so much!" Nick gaped in shock as his eyes were drawn in particular to restaurant with blacked out windows, curtain doors, and pink neon lights... reminding him a lot of a strip club.

Ignoring her fellow red fox's wandering gaze, Carmelita blinked her eyes as she looked out towards the entrance of the restaurant whose sign declared it to be the, 'Polar Luau Lounge'. In particular, the woman's gaze went to giant Tiki Heads at either side carved completely out of ice at either side of it. "...This place really is a Summer Resort for Arctic animals..." she murmured as she kept in step with her foxy friends, whose eyes were now drawn to the buffet tables in plain view that were stocked to overflowing with all kinds of foodstuffs.

"That and they have an open bar with cash options," the petite vulpine excitedly informed, taking a moment to smack his lips at the sight of all the food. "You can get all the fruity alcoholic mixed drinks you want during breakfast hours... although you still need to pay for any other types of drinks." The way he brought that tidbit up without any visual indicators was a sign that the mammal as speaking from experience.

Clapping his hands together, Nick couldn't help but murmur in replied, "I might not be a praying mammal but I am thankful for the bounty I am about to receive in liquid refreshment." In particular, the fox felt he could really go for a Bloody Mary right about now...

Raising her left eyebrow high enough that it disappeared into the navy blue tresses of her hair, the lovely Latina couldn't help but point out, "You want more? But you drank like a fish last night!" Honestly, she was worried the mammal would begin to pickle his liver at the rate he was downing them!

Despite the woman's protests, the con-mammal was not to be deterred! "And a fresh drink will flush out the last of this hangover," he said in all seriousness as the trio made their way up to the podium where a male polar bear in a red Hawaiian shirt with a surprisingly similar pattern to Wilde's was stationed. "Hey, good buddy! You got a table for three?" He held up his right paw, wiggling a trio of fingers at the ursine for emphasis.

Bending over and causing his neck muscles to straight against the collar of his shirt, the ursine looked down at his map setting before nodding his head. "Yeah. We've got a table in the Southwest corner or you can just sit at the bar, your choice," the polar bear explained to the tinier carnivore. "We have more than enough room around here but heads up. If you want alcohol with your breakfast, then you have to be at the bar."

"The bar," both vulpine men answered in sync as the vixen shook her head good naturedly.

Nodding his head once again at the exuberance both male foxes displayed, the polar predator was about to wave them forward, when he realized something. "Hey, wait a minute... don't I know you?" He gazed over the three, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinized the canid trio. "You're the three that got brought in last night, right?"

Feeling a little self-conscious, it was the policewoman that spoke for the group. "Yes, sir. I take it you heard about that?" Considering how excited Kozlov had been to see her, she wouldn't have put it past the man to spread the word across the resort.

Letting off a chuckle that reverberated in his wide chest, the large white-pelted ursine calmly answered, "Sure did. The boss mentioned you might be coming by. Go on; head to the bar. Drinks are on the house, as is your meal. Enjoy." He waved his left arm out to the side, motioning for them to enter. "Derek will be your bartender. He'll get your drinks settled and you can go up and get whatever you want from the buffet."

His large ears pointing straight up, Finnick's eyes widened as a smile tugging at the corners of his face. They were getting free food and drink? "Sweet buttery ham-flavored tofu!" The fennec cried out, eliciting a look of confusion from the others. "I'm going to eat like a king!" The petite predator cackled out as he rushed inside, his tail wagging behind him.

Quickly following after his, 'little buddy'–even if it were suicide to call him such aloud–to make sure he didn't get into any trouble, Nick couldn't help but call out to him, "I thought we were going to eat like kings anyway?"

Coming to a stop by the bar, the tiny tod turned about to face his semi-business partner. "Yeah but now we don't have to pay the forty bucks a person to do so!" He smirked and motioned to the Latina beauty who was walking towards them at a far more sedate pace. "And this means she STILL owes me a meal!"

Smirking as he caught up to his pal, Wilde leaned close to the short vulpine, quietly whispering, "Trust me. Miss Patron Saint is the reason they're letting us eat here free." As the trio finally gathered together before the bar, the male red fox's eyes settled on a set of three open chairs that happened to be lined up next to one another amongst the throngs of ones currently occupied by the wide posteriors of polar bears. Smirking, the con-mammal's emerald eyes gazed down at the smaller male fennec. "Need a boost, little man?"

Finnick growled at hearing that comment aimed towards his height. "I should hit you for that."

His smile widening even further across his muzzle, Nichols chirruped, "But do you?"

The sandy-furred fennec's big floppy ears flattened back against his skull, the tips nearly touching the floor as they did. "...Yes..." the smaller vulpine murmured in annoyance as he held his arms up for his pal to grab him... only to be surprised as it was the lovely vixen that picked up him from behind instead.

"Here you go, muchacho," Carmelita told the petite predator as she carefully set him down on the seat, being mindful of the gunshot wound on his posterior. Once he was safely settled, the Hispanic vulpine woman then took her place on the cushioned stool in the middle, leaving the swivel seat on her left open for her fellow red fox.

A polar bear in white dress shirt with black vest and tie with a nametag that read, 'Derek' turned to the new set of faces that were parked before the counter-top. "So what will it be? And how old is this kid?" The bartender asked while looking Finnick over. Seeing the angry glare he got in return, the white-pelted ursine just shrugged. "Listen, pal... I've worked plenty of bars in my time. Lots of cubs try to pass themselves off as adults simply because their breeds are small and they have deep voices."

Taking a deep breath, the desert fox huffed in annoyance as he carefully shifted his weight on his butt, grunting as he put more pressure on his recovering cheek than he would have liked. Slowly, he withdrew his wallet and his driver-license.

Taking the form of ID from him, the polar bear lifted it up to his eye level, needing to squint his gaze so he could read the writing on the laminated card that was tinier than he would have preferred. His eyes then widened suddenly, the man blinking his icy blue orbs. "Thirty-three? Seriously!? You don't look a day over three-years-old!"

An angry growl reverberated in the tiny fennec's throat. "...Just give me a Midori Sour and make it a double!"

Chuckling at his partner's irritation, Nick was quick to chirrup his order. "I'll take a Bloody Mary, please!"

Shaking her head, Carmelita sighed. "I still can't believe you want more to drink after all we ended up downing last night."

Giving the woman a helpless shrug of his shoulders in response, Wilde reiterated, "It's like I told you earlier: one of the best ways to flush a hangover is with fresh booze the next day, as long as you don't go overboard."

Considering that for a moment, the female vulpine turned her chocolate gaze towards the larger Arctic predator behind the bar. "Could I please get a Mimosa?" She could at least appear to be drinking a healthy fruit juice with her breakfast.

"How much champagne do you want in that? Half-glass or minimal?" The bartender asked as he grabbed glasses for the Bloody Mary and the Midori Sour. The glass for the Bloody Mary was the size of a typical drinking glass the restaurant served soda in while he grabbed a goblet that was as tall as Finnick for the fennec's Midori Sour.

"Well I... er..." the female red fox trailed off as she stared at the second glass before the bartender started mixing the melon liquor, citrus soda, and sour whiskey together in of said goblet. "...That's a big glass."

The large ursine booze-slinger merely gave a shrug of his shoulders. "He said he wanted a double, I plan on making it a double."

Finnick perked up as he saw that. "I am NOT going to be able to drive after drinking that." He said before cackling in glee.

The larger predator nodded his head in agreement with the petite fox's assessment. "Especially since this is only the shaking glass," Derek replied as he set the fine drink for the tiny predator down on the counter-top. He then bent over and reached underneath the bar-top, before retrieving a chilled tiki drinking glass... a drinking glass that, after a moment of inspection, the foxes realized were carved ice.

They were getting the GOOD glasses.

As the mammal filled it with the fennec's Midori Sour, it became rather obvious there was room for even more of said drink. After all, these special tiki ice cups were sized for polar bears.

The smile that blossomed across Mr. Zerdan's muzzle then began to mix another Midori Sour in the goblet threatened to envelope his entire head.

Staring at ice cup larger than his head that was shaped to have a wide smile, the male red fox gulped a bit nervously. Slowly turning his attention towards the bartender, he told the lager predator, "No offense but I don't think I could handle one that big."

"No worries little man," the bartender replied in a cordial fashion. "I wasn't going to. Like you said, you just want something to flush out your hangover." Pouring the second Midori sour into the tiki cup, he added, "Although I recommend you try drinking some Stripe or other carbonated soda over alcohol for that."

That made the male vulpine blink his eyes. "Oh really now?" Nick asked, genuinely curious. "Why do you say that?"

As he reached for the jar of maraschino cherries, the bear explained, "You're dehydrated. That's part of what gives a mammal a hangover in the first place." The bartender shook his head as he put a few cherries atop of Finnick's drink before retrieving a long twisty straw. Sticking the colorful plastic with loops into the tiki mask-adored ice cup, he told the desert fox, "And you! Don't complain. I don't have straws long for these glasses except for these ones."

Nodding his head, Finnick replied, "I have no complaints, my good mammal!" He chirruped as he stood atop the seat and reached up with his right paw. He then brought the straw to his lips, taking a long, LONG drag to fill his maw with the sweet and sour alcoholic drink.

Raising an eyebrow as he sipped at length, the vixen looked to the male on her right as she told him, "You really should get a plate of food together before you start drinking that. You might not be able to get back up and down on your stool at this rate." Let alone he was likely to fall off as he became inebriated.

"I suggest something that will stick with you. Pretzels are NOT the way to go." The bartender shook his head as he looked at a few of his fellow Arctic predators that were hogging the bowl of complimentary salted snacks. "French fries are far better in that regard," he added as he grasped a bottle of tomato juice.

The male vulpine's eyes were drawn to the glass bottle the polar predator twisted the top off of. "Is that the reason that there's usually a grill by a bar?" Nick asked as the bartender made his Bloody Mary, getting the vodka poured into the glass.

"Yep," Derek replied as he stuck a lengthy piece of celery into the drink and began stirring with it. "However, this is the breakfast buffet. We don't have any French fries available right now." He then pushed the drinking glass towards the smaller predator, telling him, "However, this is the Polar Luau Lounge... we serve a lot of traditional Hawaiian and Polynesian treats around the clock that are chock-full of starch and grease... such as the Kalua sweet potatoes. The banana leaf wraps keep the moisture in and give it almost the right amount of grease-like feel."

Watching as the man dropped a tiny umbrella into his drink to top it off, the crimson-pelted canid blinked his eyes. "That... I'll take that under advisement. So, it's the usual breakfast foods staples and some exotic treats?" He queried as she pulled his drink closer to him and began sipping on the straw. Ahh... so good, he thought with relief.

The large mammal behind the bar let off a little grunt in response before turning his attention to the lovely vixen that had been staying quiet. "Indeed. Now then, Miss? You never got back to me, do you want your drink mixed with the regular amount of alcohol or not?"

The woman mulled over her thoughts for a bit before eventually nodding her head. "Yeah, I'll go lighter with only a touch of alcohol. If there's nothing at all, then a Mimosa is just orange juice..." she trailed off with a grin as her two friends stared at her. "I can't help it. I don't drink often but when I do, I go for champagne..." she then looked over to her fellow red fox in particular and smirked. "So yes, last night was more of a once-in-a-lifetime event. I don't think you and I are going to go drinking that heavily again if I have anything to say about it."

"Duly noted," the male vulpine replied, showing the woman he had no problem with that. When you blacked out enough that you used thirty-grand ice wine for a wet t-shirt contest of merely two people–and only one mammal had the rack worth it–that was going over the line! Oh sweet Gouda, how Nick wished that he knew what the stuff tasted like! The opportunity gone! Still, he could admit one thing. "You know, it's a good thing we didn't have others there. If you thought our wakeup was an awkward one, just imagine having a number of other mammals in bed with us... ones we didn't know!"

Pulling his lips free from the twisty straw, the petite predator blinked his eyes as he considered that. "Okay, now I'm imagining a polar bear wet t-shirt contest," Finnick murmured as the gears in his mind continued to turn. "And I'm not sure what to think."

Although she wanted to concentrate on the bartender as he popped the top off a champagne bottle, the way the fennec suggested that was making her stomach give off an audible gurgle of displeasure. "...Guys, how about we just get our food before we turn off out appetites?" The Latina woman suggested.

"Totally," Wilde was quick to reply, needing to banish the thought of the housekeeper that brought him his laundry in bed with him and Carm that the damn desert fox put into his head.

The smallest vulpine of the trio nodded his noggin firmly, making his large ears flop for a moment. "Yep," Zerdan said as he turned to face Carmelita and held his arms out to her.

Rolling her eyes in a good natured fashion, the vixen got off her seat before she reached out and picked the small fennec up much like a mother would their child. She then carefully set him onto his feet, making sure he had his balance before releasing him. "There you go, Finny. Get yourself something nice to eat."

"Will do!" The petite predator chirruped before he ran off ahead of the pair, leaving them back at the bar. Apparently, the tiny tod could be quick as a bunny when he wanted to.

Watching as his partner rushed off to feed himself, the Hawaiian shirt-adorned male fox couldn't help but chuckle. "I've got to admit, this is one the nicest place I've ever stayed at," Nick told his fellow red fox as he looked around the restaurant, taking in the ambiance of white and Polynesian-style carvings in the icy interior. "I mean it. It's certainly better than sleeping in someone's dresser for one thing."

Frowning at her friend's words, the Hispanic beauty walked in-step with the crimson-pelted canid as they made their way towards the buffet line. "I'm sorry to hear Zootopia has been rather rough on you..." she said in all seriousness.

Shrugging his shoulders, the pawpsicle hustler replied, "Eh, I've come to expect it at this point..." he trailed off as he turned his attention to the line ahead. "Believe me, it's just par the course at this point," he grumbled irritably as his thoughts returned to his dream last night. Suppressing a shudder, the mammal settled for merely shaking his head in abject disgust. "Still, thanks for reminding me. I need to give Benji a call and let him know what happened. I told him I was going out for dinner... for all I know, he probably stayed up all night waiting on me to come back."

The vixen frowned slightly as she heard that, grasping a plate and offering it to Nicholas before taking one for herself. "I would hope he didn't. I think Officer Clawhauser still has work this morning," the Interpol Inspector replied as the pair came upon their turn at the buffet. A small section had some breakfast staples: scrambled eggs with a toppings bar, pieces of French toast and pancakes with a syrup bar, and a big pan of hash-browns. However, the rest of the buffet, the tables for which expanded out at either side of the main area was all kinds of luxurious Polynesian treats. Long rice with mixed vegetables, Kulolo bread pudding, Lomilomi salmon and tomato ceviche, Kālua-style squid and sweet potatoes, and more kinds of poi than a mammal could shake a limbo stick at!

However, it was readily apparent that Hawaiian fish salad or, 'poke' seemed to be the meal du jour... understandable really, considering all the polar bears and other Arctic predators that frequented the resort. Various styles with different cuts and species of fish with different applications of sauces, vegetables, and fruits... it made a nice variety for those who wanted their cold fish one way or another. From how the customers gathered around certain trays, it was apparent at first glance that ahi tuna and the he'e octopus pokes were the most popular.

Licking his lips, the con-mammal had to admit that he liked what he was seeing. "Well then, shall we gather us up some grub, pardner?" Nick chirruped with a fake Texan accent, trying to elicit a laugh from the woman. It wouldn't have been any less authentic than the decorations in a frozen wonderland.

Rolling her eyes, the Hispanic woman chirruped, "I don't think a Texan accent is appropriate for this atmosphere." She then smirked and teasingly suggested, "Now if you could sound like Elvis Predsley for me, then we'll start talking!"

Sadly, she should have realized a ham like Wilde would take her up on the challenge. "Oh baby, don't be cruel..." the male vulpine replied, trying to deepen his voice with the twang of, 'The King'. "Uh-hu~Uuuuuh!"

Playfully punching her friend in the arm, the vixen replied, "Okay, I get the hint." She then started to take some utensils from the plate station, intent to offer them to her fellow vulpine... only to frown irritably as she saw him in the process of pocketing some of the silverware. "Wilde..." she growled at the troublesome tod. "Really? I mean, really?"

Blinking his bright viridian eyes as he realized he had been caught in the act, the fox couldn't help but chuckle nervously under the scrutiny of the woman's furious gaze. "Sorry, sorry..." he apologized genuinely. "Force of habit," he said as if it explained everything.

"You better use that stuff to eat with." The policewoman growled menacingly as he took the silverware out of his pocket.

The vulpine male nodded his head rapidly. "Sure thing!" He chirruped, not wanting the woman mad at it. In truth, he really hadn't meant to, it was just... so tempting, simply sitting there, shimmering beneath the fluorescent lights. Each utensil was practically signing, 'Take us, Nick! Take us now! Think of the money you can get from selling us!'

Really, who could blame him for listening?

Sighing as she saw the man try to act like a good boy again, the woman shook her head in frustration. Honestly, she had an understanding of just why Wilde acted way he did but that didn't mean she couldn't try to break him of some of those nasty ingrained habits. Especially since she was pretty certain this place had hidden security cameras... which would lead to Nicholas having a run-in with security.

Out of curiously, she lifted up a fork and spun it around, the Inspector's gaze trailing over it for a certain imprint. "Yep... point-nine-nine-nine pure silver..." she murmured as she decided to be extra careful not to lose it. She now had a feeling that besides cameras, security personnel were around somewhere in close vicinity, waiting for someone to pull the shit Nick had. As far as she was concerned, she saved his tail from himself... again.

Stay focused, Carmelita, the vixen internally told herself. You and he are just both skittish after last night. Especially since, all things considered, she probably came extremely close to getting laid last night. Honestly? The thought terrified her. She had been trying to stay loyal to Sly all this time and what happened? She drank a little too much and switched underwear with a guy before the two of them passed out in bed together!

She really needed to figure out why they switched underwear in the first place.

Eventually the lovely Latina had her plate filled with a healthy serving of eggs she topped with shredded cheese, salsa, and guacamole from the toppings bar, a large serving ahi poke, and a square of Kulolo. She had to blink her eyes at the sight of Nick's plate, the dish entirely filled with a mix of scrambled eggs and hash-browns that he topped with the lomi-lomi salmon. "That's an interesting breakfast..." she murmured.

Shrugging, the smarmy predator replied, "I love salmon but even cooked, this stuff is served cold! Having it atop a steaming pile of eggs and potatoes makes it much more palatable..." he smiled as he looked down at it. "That and it reminds me of when my—" he caught his tongue suddenly, a sad look crossing his face before he schooled his features and continued more calmly. "It reminds me of when I used to put ketchup in my eggs when I was a kid."

Although she could tell something was slightly off with the man, the vixen instead made her way back to the bar with her fellow red fox. If he wanted to explain himself, the off-duty cop knew he would in time. "Well, if you like chopped tomatoes with your eggs, try the salsa next time," she happily suggested. "It's tomatoes with a bit more of a kick... as an acquaintance of mine once said, 'When you're living life on the spicy side, you don't have time to be left out in the cold, home-boy'."

That caught the male fox off guard, blinking his eyes repeatedly in confusion. What kind of kooky accent was she trying to mimic? "Maybe but I was never was a big fan of salsa. Still, I might give it a try at your behest," the man admitted. He figured such couldn't be too bad if it were handled right.

"I mean it, Wilde," Carmelita insisted. "I make a fine salsa if I do say so myself. An old family recipe," she explained as she took her seat at the bar.

Blinking his eyes once more for good measure, the male vulpine finally admitted, "I could learn to like salsa." He then took his own seat at the bar to the lovely Latina's left. With his plate settled, he reached for his drink with his right paw and brought it to his lips, taking a sip from his Bloody Mary. He allowed the alcoholic tomato juice to go down his throat, indulging in the burning sensation for a moment before he turned his attention back to his meal, using his fork to shovel scoopfuls of egg, shredded potato, yellow-fin tuna, and diced tomatoes into his maw; the predator gorging like an animal on the verge of starvation.

As he was so into his own meal, Wilde missed the return of his friend. "A little help here?" Finnick queried as he held aloft his own plate, the dish piled up so high with food that Carmelita had to stare. "Seriously, I mean it! This is heavy and I might drop it soon!"

Needless to say, it took her a moment but the vixen finally regained her wits. "...Jesús Cristo!" The woman shouted as she quickly got down from her chair and grasped the plate that was loaded high with eggs, pieces of French toast, and hash-brow that were just drenched in poi as if it were gravy. "This is a lot of food! Are you sure you can pack it all away?" She asked as she set it on the bar countertop for him.

Nodding his head in confirmation, the desert fox firmly insisted, "Totally! Especially since I didn't have much for dinner besides a grilled cheese sandwich and cup of tomato soup Cherry and I split last night."

Snapping his jaws a few time, the larger male vulpine swallowed his food, clearing his mouth. "Speaking of the Arctic vixen," Nick spoke up to get the attention of both his carnivore compatriots. "Just where is Cherry this fine morning anyway? I was certain she would be hanging off of you."

Snorting, the petite fennec replied, "She had to teach a Yoga class this morning."

Raising an eyebrow, the Latina turned her head to look at the fennec, said desert fox blinking at her when he realized she was putting her focus on him. "Yoga?" The female red fox queried, curious as to that. Considering it for a moment, she suggestively added, "Let me guess: it's helpful in other aspects of your relationship?" The woman then knelt down slightly, grasping the smaller vulpine in both her hands.

Finnick grinned as Carmelita helped him up to the counter top. "You know it!" He said with a cackle as the woman set him back down onto his seat by the bar. He then did a rather good impression of Wilde's earlier start by using a spoon to literally shovel his food into his maw, uncaring as to how he appeared to everyone else while he did so. He had the need to feed!

Rolling her eyes at the tiny tod's lack of manners, the woman let off a small sigh of exasperation. "Men..." the Latina beauty murmured before shaking her head. Settling herself back into her seat once more, she began eating at a far more sedate pace compared to her fellow foxes, enjoying the warm, cheesy, saucy eggs that had just the right amount of tangy zest from the guacamole. "Delicious..." she murmured before she focused on her meal outright.

From there, the trio was content, the foxes taking their time to enjoy their breakfast, each bite a savory cacophony of flavor. It truly was a nice way to start the day...

...At least until a male voice loudly shouted from behind them. The cry of, "HEY!" was particularly prevalent to the vixen. As such, she turned about in her seat to see just what the ruckus was about

At first, Carmelita thought it was a group of Arctic hares: three women and one guy. However, a second glance confirmed that one of the rabbits she thought to be women was actually a male with a tuft of fur in the front that resembled instant ramen than it did actual hair. Said ramen hair was wearing pants that were red with blue triangles and lime green zigzag patterns on them. "Looks like something from the Eighties," she heard Nick mutter–and couldn't help but agree with. The rabbit was also wearing a black hoody with a red Herd Records logo on it and an unzipped red jacket that appeared to be leather... possibly the one piece of leather she'd seen in this city outside of her boots!

The other guy in the group– who actually LOOKED like a male rabbit at first glance–was wearing white pants that had various national flags on them while placing the American flag prominently over the crotch. Oh look, a typical American tourist! Carmelita thought to herself sarcastically. What really annoyed her was the fact that this person was wearing a fur coat. Seriously? Fur? You have a natural pelt of your own yet you choose to skin another animal for theirs? She thought bitterly. There was no way in hell that was synthetic, not if they were at the Snow Palace. Yes, it was a practice across the world for a number of furless animals to do such, it was still a social taboo for pelt-adorned mammals to do such.

One of the women had a Russian Ushanka hat on her head–again, a rabbit going out of her way to wear real animal fur. Her blonde hair was long and wavy and she wore what seemed to be a black vest adorned with tiny red hearts on it atop a white long-sleeve shirt and the same flag pants as the fur-coat adorned lapin. It was an outfit the vixen was willing to bet was worth more than she made in a year.

The last girl in the group was wearing red pants, red Preyda brand sandals, a festive blue Hawaiian shirt adorned with bright red flowers on it and a blue-and-red-striped bandanna over her forehead to keep her long locks of red hair from getting into her eyes.

No, seriously! Her hair was so long that it was hanging over the girl's shoulders and down to where her navel would be. Apparently she was able to forgo the need for any thick clothing by just abusing her body's natural attributes to the extreme as if she were some Rapunzel.

Overall, Carmelita had to sigh internally. It was during situations like this that she was reminded of Sly the most. The Ringtail often told her that mammals who acted and dressed fancy to try and show off their importance... at least the level of it in their own minds... were some of the, 'biggest douchebags under the sun'–his words, not hers.

Although she found herself truly agreeing with such sentiment when the male hare that actually looked like he was of his birth gender at first glance stepped towards her; a pompous gait to his walk. "What do you think you're doing!?" He demanded to know of the vulpine trio.

Furrowing her eyebrow, the vixen swallowed her mouthful of eggs before calmly replying, "Having breakfast with my friends."

Crossing his arms over his chest, the lapin in a heavy fur coat–likely Feral timber wolf–firmly stated, "I'll have you know those seats belong to us!" He lifted his right paw up to point at himself with his thumb. "We're regulars here at the Polar Luau Lounge: so step off, Chomper!"

The polar bear behind the counter sighed. "We have seats available at the end of the row, Edmond." He lifted his left paw up and motioned to the stretch of seats; a quartet of said stools that aligned the bar vacant and waiting to be filled. "You and your brother can take your girls to sit down there and I'll be right with you."

Mr. Ramen Hair wasn't having it. "Oh, he~YEEELL naw!" the younger male cried out, as he swirled his head a bit in a circular motion, clearing his vision of the frosted tips of his curly bangs that had drifted into his eyes. "These are the center seats of the bar and the best view of the place both ways! Why should we let some friggin' pelts get all the attention!?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek let out a long-suffering sigh. Being the bartender had its ups and downs and frankly, dealing with yuppies was one of his lowest lows. "Because they were here first," the polar bear countered, explaining things in a tone one typically reserved for small children. "If you wanted to sit here so badly, then you should have reserved the seats... but even if you called down, Mr. Kholodno would tell me to ignore it." As he said that, he eyed the vixen in particular. Apparently, he knew about the woman through the hotel grapevine.

Both male rabbits look absolutely flabbergasted at being told off by the establishment but it was the blonde-haired female in heart-printed black vest that spoke up with a scandalized cry of, "Like, omigawd! Did you hear that, Edmond-honey? They're, like, totally dissing you or some junk for a bunch of stupid foxes!"

Hearing his girlfriend/gold-digging whore point out the obvious slight to his pride and reputation, the elder of the two male rabbits grit his teeth angrily, gnashing them together in an intimidating–for a rabbit–fashion. "How dare you say that? Do you even know who I am!?"

"Someone who is keeping me from enjoying my breakfast. So please, take your shitty sense of style and get out of here," Carmelita said in all seriousness as she turned around to face the bar, done giving the little uppity prick her attention. The vixen had dealt with far too much in the past twenty-four hours and she would be damned if she allowed some self-important little prey prick try to assert his non-existent authority now.

His blue eyes going wide, the prey mammal adorned in a fine genuine wolf fur jacket declared, "You stupid bitch! I'll have you know our clothing is from the finest designers in Zootopia!"

Nick barely suppressed a snort of annoyance. Having grown up the son of a tailor, he knew what real style was. These bunny yuppies had no friggin' clue, he thought irritably as he instead focused on bringing another forkful of mixed breakfast goodness to his mouth.

However, the lovely Latina proved she wasn't going to be as polite as the vulpine to her left that held his tongue. Without turning around to look at the Arctic animals, she snidely replied in a very foxy fashion, "So you went with their, 'tripping out on wild mushrooms' line?"

A smirk crossing his features, Nicholas couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter that time.

His eyes going wild in rising indignation, the male rabbit snarled. "HEY!" Edmond shouted as he reached forward, firmly grasping her left shoulder with his head, intent to spin her around on her seat. "Don't you dare disrespect me, you fucking Yiffer! I'll have you know—"

Whatever else the self-entitled lapin could have gone on ranting about was cut short as the woman's left elbow slammed into his solar plexus before her forearm flung backward from that position, smashing the rabbit in his muzzle with the back of her fist. He went down like a sack of bricks, crying out in pain from having his ass kicked so soundly...

...And she hadn't even bothered to look at him.

Looking down at the whining rabbit as he squirmed all over the icy floor as blood splattered from a broken nose, Derek couldn't help but whistle in appreciation of the woman's technique. She was quite efficient! "He totally had that coming," the bartender murmured as he reached over and picked up the red emergency phone. Almost immediately, he began to say, "Medic's office? Yeah, we got another busted muzzle up here in the Polar Luau Lounge. You mind bringing some help with you? This is going to get ugly."

"YOU BITCH!" The rabbit screamed as he thrashed his legs up and down as he tried to deal with the pain.

Heating that, the ursine male cringed. "Yeah, you better bring some tranquilizer darts. I think elephant strength would be appropriate."

Gazing down at the fallen male as he squirmed around on the floor like a newborn kit while trying to stem the flow of blood from his broken nose, the lapin woman with long locks of red hair moved them out of the way of her eyes to get a better look. She couldn't help but whistle at the sheer brutality that had been delivering on her boyfriend's sibling. "Like, wow... you see what she did, Edwin? Totally owned your brother." She turned her head towards him, smiling in a bubbly fashion. "I guess that makes you top lop, huh?"

The younger brother didn't seem to hear his girl trying to stroke his ego as he turned to the vixen with an enraged look in his eyes. "Yiffing bitch!" He snarled as he pulled a pocket knight out of his jacket with his right paw; the blade clicking free of the handle as he rushed towards her.

Her ears twitching at the noise of the blade flicking into the open, the vixen was quick to spin around in her seat, catching the small three-inch pocket knife between the prongs of her fork before twisting it and pulling the weapon free from his grasp with her right hand, letting him fall towards her, just as the Hispanic vixen's left hand reached back. It then rocketed forward with an impressive palm strike, catching the rabbit in the face and breaking his nose outright like his brother's, the woman dropping him even harder than she had his older sibling. "Putz..." she huffed under her breath.

The bartender whistled as he watched the altercation unfold, thoroughly impressed. Raising the phone up to the side of his head once more, he added, "Check that. We now have two mammals that are badly injured, professionally done if I might say so. Right, better send for four just in case." He then finally hung up the phone on its cradle and shook his head.

Turning about in his seat, the male red fox twitched as he watched both girls fretting over their downed boyfriends. His ears flattened back against his scalp, the crimson-pelted canid turned to look at the vixen, witnessing as she angrily chugged her mimosa. "...Carm?" He said her name softly, hoping to Gouda he didn't get popped for disturbing her while she was agitated. Seeing her do such to the two bunnies, he understood it would have hurt.

With her cheeks puffed out from the immense amount of alcoholic liquid they held, the woman pursed her lips together tightly before forcefully swallowing the spiked orange juice. Letting off a small gasp for much needed air, the vixen turned her head, her chocolate orbs meeting her fellow fox's emerald eyes. "Yes, Nick?"

The male vulpine paused, unsure of what to say for a moment. When no flying fists of foxy fury were incoming, he ventured to suggest, "That... that was kind of brutal."

"And one pulled a weapon on me..." she said as she motioned to the pocket knife that was still stock within the prongs of her fork. "After I day I had yesterday, I have zero tolerance for anyone's bullshit. Come after me with violence, expect it in turn... with interest."

Staring down at the bat with the vicious looking knife that she had managed to catch with a fork of all things, the vulpine con-mammal raised his head to look towards Derek. "...Bartender!" Nick chirruped as he tried to wave down the polar bear. "Please get my friend another champagne and orange juice: STAT!"

"And I would like another Midori sour," Finnick stated as tapped on the empty ice cup with his knife to make a clinking sound, indicating it was empty. As the other two taller vulpines stared at him, the desert fox merely shrugged his shoulders. "What? I'm a thirsty. These potatoes are salty as all fudge!"

However, before either of the red foxes could say anything, they were beaten to the punch but another mammal. "I must say," a familiar voice spoke up, causing Nick and Carmelita to turn around, the pair catching sight of Vinsent as he gazed down at the scene in amusement. "Quick and brutal: very effective. If you ever want to quit being a police officer, Madame Fox, my boss would quickly hire you as one of his personal bodyguards."

The rabbit with the lengthy red tresses raised her head to stare towards the large polar bear in shock. "Like... the Yiffer is a cop?" She asked, surprise evident in her tone... before the Arctic lapin yelped in fear of the glare that Vinsent directed towards her.

As the brightly-colored bunny went quiet, the large polar predator that acted as Head of Security for the Snow Palace Resort nodded his head firmly in confirmation. "Miss Fox is our most distinguished guest. You have not only been rude to her but also to Mr. Kozlov in insulting her. Even if she had started the fight, which she did not, you would still be in the wrong." He stated firmly, leaving no room for error: the hares had screwed up by acting like entitled brats. "Now, Edmond... Edwin..." he said to the downed boys, ignoring their arm-candy strumpets. "We're going to take you down to the medical wing to get you looked at. Once you're patched up, I believe it would be in your best interests to stay away for some time to come, dah?"

"Yuh... yiffin' puhlt..." the elder Arctic hare sibling cursed through his broken nose, his Feral wolf coat now stained with so much of his blood.

*Thwip*!

And just like that, the polar prey mammal went completely still; foot twitching as he had a dart sticking out from the right side of his neck.

A smile graced the muzzle of the ursine with a facial scar. "Ah, good timing," Vinsent praised as a couple of armed medics came rushing onto the scene. "Such is a much more peaceful than my way of dealing with them."

Watching as the nurses came into the restaurant firing off tranquilizer darts–even at the two lapin females that were horrendously dressed–Nick twitched slightly before he turned his attention back to the lovely vixen beside him. "...You know, my life used to be so much quieter before you came into it," he told her in a teasing fashion.

The vixen raised an eyebrow to that in curiosity. "Is that a bad thing?" Carmelita asked in all seriousness. From what she had seen, her friend's life had been complete crap before she became part of it.

"...Only the fact that I've had to make adjustments on the fly more often than I would like," the pawpsicle hustler replied as he held up his Bloody Mary. "So cheers to a new day? May we actually enjoy it and not get shot at for once?"

Rolling her eyes, the vixen reached for her refilled glass–with decorative orange slice on the rim–and brought her drink over to him for a toast. "Cheers to a new day."

"Burrra~AAAAAAAAAAP!" The tiny tod at the other side of Carmelita belched, Finnick proving he had nothing left to toast with while also reminding the bartender he wanted his refill!

The Hispanic stared down at the fennec before turning her attention back to her fellow red fox. "...I think when I get back to Honey's I am going to drop like a rock and sleep the rest of this day away."

"Totally," Nick agreed before clinking his glass with Carmelita's before the two began drinking deeply.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Notes: Whelp, it's November 27th... two weeks AFTER I promised to have an update and what should have been the release date for Chapter 16. I bet you're all wondering what the heck happened.

I'll be blunt: sickness.

The day after I posted Chapter 14, I came down with dreaded, "Con Crud'. I had gotten the flu at Furpocalypse and it wasn't fun. I had gotten over it for maybe a day and a half, just in time for my folks to come back from Florida... and mom had a cold. I took care of her for a couple of days, only to then get that same damn cold myself.

Unfortunately, whether it was because of my asthma or the fact my immune-system was already taxed from the flu, I couldn't bounce back. I literally dropped from pneumonia and spent a good day in the emergency room getting my lungs forcibly cleared out with a steroid treatment and getting prescribed all kinds of medications while I continued to battle it.

I'm going to be blunt. Prednosone was a bitch. A solid week of no real sleep, (I couldn't even pass out for an hour before I began to suffocate from mucous) yet a TON of energy from the medication... medication that also destroyed my focus and left me unable to do anything BUT exercise at the wee hours of the morning when people should be sleeping!

At least I can say I'm finally better. Sadly at this point I will say I might be switching over to a three-week schedule for the winter season as I live in the New England area and winter tends to be a bit of work whenever it snows. I work as a caretaker of four real estate properties and that takes a lot of effort on my part: particularly the condo and the dental practice with their parking lots filled with cars. So while I will continue to write, any snowstorms that come up... especially multiple ones... will be a sign that I can't stick to a two week schedule.

Otherwise I will TRY to stick to a two week schedule. Here's hoping I can get the next chapter done by December 10th.

And remember: Try Everything... including telling people, 'Merry Christmas', 'Happy Chanukah', 'Kwazy Kwanza', 'Very Solemn Ramadan', 'Screw Your Holidays: I'm an Atheist', or what have you !