The coyote pulled up in front of the apartment building in Savannah Central. Using her rearview mirror, she adjusted her dull wine blazer and ensured her black-and-tan fur was still brushed and presentable. When satisfied, she stepped out of her car and strode up to the front door of the complex. The coyote rang the bell beside the fading "T. Renard" label. A moment later a voice answered "Hello, who is this?"
"Mr. Renard, my name is Dakota Latrans, Zootopia's top political operative. I'd like to work for your campaign. Would you let me in so we can talk face-to-face?"
There was a short pause as another voice said something from the background that she couldn't quite make out. The first voice answered "Sure, come on up." The lock on the door clicked and Dakota let herself in.
A few flights of stairs brought Dakota to apartment 505. The surrounding hallway was coated with dust and not particularly well lit. She hesitated for a moment before knocking. Is this where this guy really lived? What kind of campaign was she getting herself into? She took a deep breath. No, anyone can be anything. If that bunny had done anything, she had proven that there was at least a glimmer of truth in Zootopia's motto. Clearly this guy had something to offer if ZNN announced his candidacy on air. He'd surely talked with consultants and certainly had a plan to tackle the campaign. With his credentials, he might have even been asked to run by someone. Dakota couldn't hesitate. She needed to get in now before all the top positions were snapped up. She put on a professional smile, removed her resumé from her bag, and knocked on the door.
A yellow-gray fox answered the door in a faded green t-shirt and a pair of jeans. The shoebox of an apartment behind him was empty of people aside from a pig in a purple sweatshirt typing on a laptop. Papers lay scattered around the otherwise tidy apartment. A tingle of worry tightened her chest, but Dakota tried her best not to show it. She extended her paw. "You must be Mr. Renard. It's an honor to meet you."
"You can call me Todd. A pleasure to meet you Ms. Latrans," Todd shook her paw with a smile. "Come in."
"Thank you," Dakota stepped inside and offered her paw to the pig on the couch. "I don't believe we've met."
The pig looked up from his laptop and quickly pushed himself off the couch. He shook her paw. "Hubert Hamilton, and you are?"
Dakota felt a pang of disappointment that he didn't recognize her. Had she fallen so far already? "Dakota Latrans. I'm assuming you're the campaign manager."
"Campaign manager?" Hubert looked confused and slightly concerned. He turned to Todd, who shrugged his shoulders with a similar expression. Dakota's ears twitched as they tried to decide between drooping with worry and perking with excitement. They don't have a campaign manager? Was this a serious campaign? Did he enter on a whim? Do they have any idea what they're doing? But then again, if they didn't have a campaign manager yet, she could snap up the juiciest position in a race.
"I'm sorry, I misspoke. I meant to say 'I'm assuming you're looking for a campaign manager'. I'd like to offer my services, and for a very reasonable price," Dakota turned and handed Todd her resumé. She wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through her paws.
"I...uh…" Todd looked at Dakota, then the resumé, then to Hubert, then back to Dakota. "One moment, please." He grabbed Hubert and stepped to the other side of the apartment. With their backs turned, the two whispered just quietly enough for Dakota to only pick up isolated words. For a minute or two she just stood there, keeping a professional smile and posture as her heart pounded in her chest. Occasionally one or the other would turn to look at her or gesture to something on the resumé before resuming their whispering. Eventually they turned to face her again.
Todd affected a professional smile of his own. "Ms. Latrans, we would be more than happy to have you manage my campaign."
"Thank you Mr. Ren- thank you, Todd," she shook his paw firmly. "We can work out the nitty-gritty later. First, I want to see what I'm working with."
"What you're working with?" Todd asked.
"Signs, flyers, stickers, whatever. What do you have with your name on it?" Dakota looked around the apartment for merchandise.
"Well, we've got these," Hubert picked up a half-sheet of printer paper with some text and Todd's face on it. Dakota took it and turned the sheet over a couple times in disbelief. Just looking at it, any animal could tell it was made in an hour or two in Micerosoft Word. After a moment, Hubert spoke up hesitantly. "Well?"
"It's okay," Dakota set the flyer on an end table. "If you're running for senior class president of your high school, that is. If you want to be taken seriously as a candidate you need something glossy, something professional," Dakota took out her phone. As she poked and swiped at the screen, she glanced up at Todd. "How many of these do you have?"
"About a hundred or so," Todd gestured to a pile of papers by the door.
"We'll need more than that," Dakota held her phone up to her ear. "Humphrey! How's my favorite camel doing? It's Dakota. Listen, I'm working on a campaign for mayor and I need your help… Todd Renard… Yes I think he's got a chance...I'm very qualified, Humphrey. Okay, focus. I need you to make some designs for me: flyers, signs, et cetera. I'll send you a picture of what we have now for inspiration. Thanks, bye." She snapped a picture of the flyer before returning her phone to her pocket. She turned to Todd. "Okay, we should have some real flyers in a few days. Next thing we need is to get you in front of crowds. We didn't register in time to make the debate next week, but that doesn't mean we can't get you out talking to animals. You must be involved with some animal-rights groups; are there any events or meetings coming up?"
Todd felt like he needed to catch his breath just listening to the coyote. "Uh, yeah. There's a dinner in a week and a half for this predator-rights group I've worked with before: the Committee for the Life and Welfare of Predators. They're one of the larger predator-rights organizations."
"Perfect, I want you to call them right away," Dakota retrieved her notepad from her purse and jotted something down. "Do you think they'll endorse you?"
"I, um, I mean maybe? I don't really have any experience to work with there."
"Yeah, well you will. We'll be wanting to get endorsements from all sorts of animal-rights groups - pred and prey - along with prominent members of the community: business owners, activists, Nick Wilde or Judy Hopps could be good," Dakota paced back and forth as she rattled off examples, writing in her notepad the whole time. "You'll also have to get used to begging friends, family, and strangers for money. It sucks, but it sucks less than losing because you were outspent."
"We're running against Turnbull. He's probably already spent more than we'll ever get," Hubert reminded her.
"Point taken. You still need money to run a campaign," Dakota stopped in front of Todd. "Did you get all that?" He nodded slowly, trying to hide hide the nervousness and lingering confusion in his eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We got this. You'll do fine," Dakota patted him on the cheek. "Now, let's get to making calls."
A/N: The next chapter probably won't be up for a while. I'm going to be gone all next week, and when I come back I'll have a lot of work to make up before I can work on another chapter of this.