Kelly shifts uncomfortably as she watches the big cat contemplate his notes. Without the sound of his voice, she finds that there's little to distract herself from the events of the past two hours. It scares her to think about her mother's face—how when she found Kelly and her brothers cowering in the corner, it bunched together into something ugly, like she was about to yell or cry or vomit. It was an awful, terrifying expression. Her chest tightens at the memory, and she shudders at the thought of her crazy neighbor. She tries to focus on Leonard. She can hear him humming through different lullabies and other cub songs to see if they share similar tempos with the one on his notepad. He tries 'The Little Grasshopper,' 'Ten Slimy Salamanders,' and 'Groundhog Peekaboo,' but none of them seem to fit. Kelly manages a smile when he tries to hum his own tune, screwing up his face when he realizes his musical incompetence. Her brothers wait on the cat's shoulder, unsure if it's appropriate to continue the conversation about their favorite Saturday morning cartoon while the officer concentrates. Instead, they occupy themselves the buttons and flaps on his uniform. Leonard shits Kelly from his paw to his free shoulder, and the boys snap to attention.
"Do you guys remember how it went—the song?" he asks, and the boys shake their heads. Kelly relaxes when he turns his gaze back to her.
"Uh-huh," she says, and repeats the tune, watching Leonard scribble stresses over the words. He thanks the young kangaroo rat, flipping the notebook closed. Deciding they've been through enough questioning, Leonard unzips one of the pouches that hangs from his belt, pulling out a roll of ZPD sticker badges. Unraveling it to the rodent-sized stickers, he holds them up to the kids, smiling as they peel off one for themselves. The text is too small for him to read, but he knows it by heart. ZPD Junior Officer.
"Awesome," says one of the boys, and the other two kids thank Leonard.
"You guys earned it," he responds, flicking his ear comically "and I think I hear your mother calling."
They giggle, and the panther stands up off the steps, striding back towards their apartment building. The streets have emptied considerably since the incident. People seem to have lost interest in the old sheep, instead choosing to worry about their own problems. Rounding a street corner, he catches sight of the ambulance, it's whirling lights bathing the street in red. The back doors sit open, and Leonard finds the otter medic, Richard, talking with Nick off to the side while the old sheep sits up on the stretcher. The fox catches a whiff of his partner, signaling to him with a swish of his tail.
Something's wrong.
Partner communication was heavily stressed during Leonard's time at the academy. The instructors told them it was imperative that they learn how to signal each other without using words while out on patrol. They were taught a language disguised by twitching and scratching to combat the natural instincts of Zootopia's citizens. Right ear flick—I'm uncomfortable/watch my back, clasping paws behind the back—everything's good, shoulder scratch with two fingers—this person is armed, etc. Leonard pauses to make sure he isn't mistaken. Sure enough, Nick makes two deliberate swipes over the back of his legs with his tail. Something doesn't make sense/compare notes later. Leonard hurries over to the steps of Maggie's apartment, dropping the kids off at the top of the stairs. Maggie thanks him before telling her kids to do the same, pushing them towards the rodent entrance of the apartment. As her kids file inside, the young mother turns to Leonard at the top of the steps.
"You're an angel, Mr. Slinser. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
Before he can respond, his radio coughs a call for officers to respond to a disturbance on Root street, ten minutes away. Leonard settles on a nod before jogging back to the squad car.
Nick revs the engine of the squad car, flicking on the lights and checking the rearview mirror to make sure the ambulance is ready to follow. The medical vehicle flashes its brights, and Nick slowly rolls the car onto the street before turning on the sirens. His mind races, thinking about the old sheep that sits in the back of the ambulance. Nothing about his encounter with the senile man makes sense, and it eats at the back of his mind as he steers the car over the winding streets towards the disturbance call. He compiles a list of evidence and possibilities as to how an old, senile man could manage to live on his own while spending almost every day cooped up inside his apartment. He remembers a case where a young snowshoe hare transferred his grandmother from an old person's home in Tundratown to an apartment in Savannah Square, hoping to get rid of her by letting her dehydrate over the course of a week. He almost got away with it, too, but an early morning trash collector caught him hauling her body out of the building. Nick runs over the details again, letting them flow freely over the forefront of his mind.
Old man. Senile. Living by himself. Who's paying his rent? Hasn't bathed in months— terrible living conditions. How long has he been on his own? No complaints from anyone in complex. Nobody's even seen him before? Talked about being on a farm—important? Coverup? If so, by who? Why?
He runs the questions over and over, trying to come up with different perspectives and, hopefully, answers.
"Uh, you wanted to talk?" says Leonard, and the fox's train of thought derails. The black panther looks at him expectantly.
"Yeah, yeah. You thought there was something up with the sheep, right?" he asks, and the big cat nods.
"I mean, you spent more time with him than I did, but I got the chance to talk to his neighbors," says Leonard, and Nick's eyebrows jump.
"You found his neighbors?" he asks, and Leonard nods.
"Rodents that applied for between-wall housing. Her kids were home when he started yelling nonsense. By the way, do the words 'Hey diddle diddle' mean anything to you?" he asks, and Nick's features furrow.
"...No. Why?"
Leonard flips open his notebook to the lyrics, reading the tune aloud.
"The kids in the apartment said he was singing this before he freaked out."
Nick frowns at the new information. He could simply pass it off as the old man being crazy, but his gut tells him otherwise. He asks Leonard to copy the lyrics down for him. Leonard rips off a sheet after writing down the lines, leaning back in his seat and rubbing a paw over his eyes. The young panther is exhausted. He thinks back to a few hours ago when he was asleep and feels himself drift dangerously close to closing his eyelids. He thinks about Roy, too, smiling at the thought of his partner hogging all the sheets for himself. Nick snaps him out of his thoughts, announcing that they've arrived on site. Pulling up to the end of Root, both officers survey the street. It doesn't take them long to find the source of the call.
A plump, brown rabbit stands in the middle of the street, staring up at Zootopia's science center building, or more commonly known as 'The Spire.'
AN: So this ended up being way shorter than I intended it to be, but I have to put something down because it's almost four in the morning. I'm excited for what's next, and hopefully I can turn that into the longer chapter that you guys deserve. I wasn't particularly happy about how this one turned out for a lot of reasons, but I think I'll just have to try twice as hard with the next chapter instead of worrying about what I did wrong with this one. See you next Thursday, and thanks for reading!
Also, Leonard is by far becoming my favorite character.