When he first awoke, it was silent.
It felt like he had been hit with the bullet train that he would see pass above him every morning. His head was a rattling mess of pain and heat, coursing all the day down to his spine and lower regions. His vision had been halved by a possible bandage around a third of his cephalic area. He remembered snippets of what had occurred the night before. Ingredients for food still lay on the van floor, and he could still feel and smell the aroma of cider on his sensitive nose. The smell of Sam, who had smelled of salty water and several concoctions of perfumes, and the smell of Max, putridity incarnate. He was dirty, inside and out, and he was pissed off that the male otter would even dare to touch someone as innocent as the server. Not that he was any better, he had hurt her too, but he was ready to confront her, tell her the truth, talk about it. He wasn't ready to just be hit with it right away. All because he somehow managed to intercept her before he could. Wondering where his lousy nephew was, he began sitting up, noticing him messing up with the TV. He saw a mixture of sounds that told him that he was changing the channels to look for something to watch.
"Royclaw Corporation hit with another interesting story as B-"
*switch*
"Come with us into an interesting journey of the deep waters of Zootopia, still largely unexplored by mammal-"
*switch*
"I'm Judy Hopps, and I approve this mess-"
*switch*
"Jess, cancel all my appointments for the night," a fox in a brown trenchcoat said to a very portly dressed vixen.
"Are you busy, Mr. Reynard? It is unusual of you to take a night off," said the vixen, with a tone of voice that told Finnick she was older than the fox by a few years.
"Oh, but I am busy, Jess. I'm taking you out to dinner. And call me Quincy, please, Mr. Reynard makes me sound old."
"And is there anything wrong with that?" she asked, seemingly offended.
He chuckled. "Touche. I hope that doesn't make you change your mind about my proposal."
"Not at all, Mr-, um, I mean, not at all, Quincy."
"Great then. The investigation can wait for one night."
"What the hell is that, Greg?" he asked, his voice not sounding like it usually did. He blamed it on his injuries.
"It's Fox For Your Troubles! I don't usually like this sort of thing, but it's nice to see foxes be represented so highly in a TV show. It's the hottest thing around right now, ain't that cool."
"Yeah, whatever," Finnick said. He could care less.
"I made some coffee, I know you're probably mega hungover."
"What an astute observation," he said, sarcastically.
"Not really, it doesn't take a moron to see you look like shit," Greg said, smiling.
"I'm cutting your face off one of these days."
"You don't mean it," Greg said.
He was right, he didn't mean it. Not after all the trouble he went through to get him, and not after the coffee and water that were standing by the bed. He gulped the water and then went on to the hot coffee, already alleviating his painful morning.
"We have to change those bandages too," Greg said, getting up to start helping the smaller fox.
"I can do it myself," Finnick protested.
"Now, now, uncle, it's better if I help, okay? We can be done more quickly that way."
He usually didn't let himself be pampered that much, but he really was in pain, and it didn't hurt to not be the tough one all the time, needing to do everything themselves. "Fine. Do your thing."
He sat on the sofa and waited patiently for Greg to be done changing his bandage. He gave Finnick a moment to check his wounds, and really, the one that looked the ugliest was the quite large gash on the back of his head, almost reaching his forehead. At least his ears were intact, and no blood got on them, thankfully. Then he looked at his inflamed cheeks, caused by Max's punches, and then at his clawed cheek. Dull and small, but still managed to do some damage. It might leave a scar. Once again, Greg had to cover one of his eyes in order to cover all the wounds needed, and gave him some painkillers. Greg made him a few eggs, which he ate quickly (He always had dinner, but Max kinda messed up his plans, so he was extra hungry) and laid back down on the bed.
"So…what are you gonna do? What's the plan?"
"Plan? Whaddaya mean 'plan'?"
"To try to make Sam not hate you."
"Oh, that kind of plan. Honestly? Nothing."
"What? You're kidding, right?"
"Nah, I'm sure everything will sort itself out. Max ain't doing nothing to her, and she can peacefully live her life knowing I'm not in it."
"Oh, no, Uncle, you're not doing this again," Greg frowned, looking at Finnick very judgmentally.
"Doing what again?"
"Giving up! You said the same thing when Nick left!"
"No I didn't! I told him to do what he wanted and he did it!"
"That wasn't how you felt, though."
"How would you know how I felt?"
"Duh, because I know you, and you're always trying to take the easy way out."
"Easy way out? Look at me, I'm covered in wounds."
"Wounds that won't matter if you don't try to patch things up with Sam. What are you so scared of?"
"Scared? I'm not scared."
"Sam too much of a girl for the great Finnick?" He asked smugly.
"Don't make that face, you know I hate it."
"I'll stop if you change your mind."
"I'm not changing it."
"Then I won't stop."
"You're really going to torture me? While I'm in this sorry state?"
Greg, still showcasing his Nick-ish smile, replied, "Yes. Until you grow a pair and go to her."
"I'm not going to," Finnick said, pouting childishly and crossing his arms.
Greg slowly stopped smugly grinning and sighed. "Fine. I guess I really can't get through to you."
"You're finally learning," Finnick said, content that Greg wasn't gonna push the issue further.
"I'll be on my way then. There's food in the mini-fridge whenever you're hungry."
"Wait hold on where are you going?"
"Oh don't you worry your sweet foxy tail. Just going for a stroll," Greg said, his eyes looking everywhere except Fin's own.
"Greg?"
"Just a nice little walk," he said, slowly going to the van's door.
"Greg, you wouldn't."
"A nice drive in my car."
"Greg you wouldn't do that to me, right?"
"Do what, uncle? I'm just going for an innocent little walk."
"You know where Sam lives!" He screamed, realizing the fact he had overlooked. "You drove her here yesterday! Oh my god! Greg, don't you dare, boy."
"It's all for the greater good, uncle. You'll thank me in the future."
"I-I'll clean your laundry! For a month! 2 months! Come on, give me something to work here!"
"As tempting as that sounds, your happiness is worth more to me than any laundry cleaning."
"Grrrr come back here! Greg, I'll hate you forever if you do this!"
"You don't mean that, bye, I love you, food in the fridge!" With that said and done, Greg opened the van door and left. Finnick could hear running noises from outside. If he was at his top potential, he could try and run after him before he did anything crazy, but right now he was the most tired he had ever felt in his life, and he admitted that the show that Greg showed him was starting to intrigue him.
He didn't wait for lunch and just took the food from the fridge, sitting on the sofa comfortably watching the show. He will patiently wait until Greg eventually lands on the van disappointed. There's no way he could single handedly get him another date with Sam. Absolutely no way in the world.
Right?
When she first awoke, the otter groaned as she opened her eyes to a strip of light coming from a window. Said light came from the morning sun peering in through it. She could spot some greenery outside, immediately alerting her that this wasn't her home. Oh no, had she done another one-night stand? Had she been brought to a stranger's home while intoxicated and did the unspeakable? Lylla certainly hoped not. She had wanted something serious for a while, but that one mammal that could be her partner for life hadn't shown up yet, and the date wasn't going that well, as far as she remembered.
On the upside, she didn't feel sore, so action must not have occurred. However, she did have a head-shattering migraine caused obviously by the massive drinking she had partaken in last night at the Sky's Hoof. She was covered by a very cozy blue blanket adorned with seashells and oysters. There was no one by her side, so maybe they had started to make breakfast. She did not want to spend too much time there. After all, she didn't even know which person she was staying with. It could've been anyone! This apartment didn't look like a rich person's, though, so she could single out a lot of the people in that party. Curiosity got the better of her and she got up. She still had yesterday's clothes, not a single piece of them broken or torn off. She was completely intact. She gave another sigh of relief and thanked life for not making her stuck with a psychopath.
She smelled pancakes and coffee, and quickly made her way to the kitchen, not before accidentally stepping on the bathroom.
"Oh, hey, you're awake," said an otter, still in her pajamas. Wait, she knew this otter.
"Sam? It's you?"
"Yup, that's me. Sam the otter. What do ya want first, coffee or pancakes?"
"I-I'm sorry, what happened yesterday?"
"All in its due time, dear, now sit," the green-eyed river otter went to Lylla and pushed her into the near table, sitting her down and putting a coffee in front of her. "Here, for your hangover. I'll be sure to give you water after you're done."
She wanted to keep pushing her for answers about last night, but that coffee smelled great, and she really wanted her headache to stop pulsating so much, at least a little bit. She gulped the coffee like it wasn't hot at all and drank the full liter of water that Sam had placed on the table next.
"Do you like blueberry syrup or is maple fine?" she asked her, as she began filling her pancakes with blueberry syrup.
"Maple is fine, thanks," she told her, as she nodded and put the maple syrup all throughout the plate. She gave her the plate along with a fork and knife and proceeded to sit across the table, slicing and taking a bite.
"I know you got questions, so shoot," she mentioned, after swallowing her first bite and smiling warmly.
Lylla also took a bite and enjoyed the taste of the pancakes. Sam was a pretty good cook. After that, she was ready for the first question. She figured she could get rid of the most embarrassing question she had right off the bat. "Did we…sleep together?"
"W-what?" Sam asked, no longer with the smile she had been wearing.
"I-I mean, not that I'd hate it, if I remembered anything that is. Honestly, I've never even thought of doing it with girls, but gaining that experience with another otter doesn't sound that ba-"
"Stop! We didn't sleep together! On both literal terms of that statement," Sam exclaimed, blushing in embarrassment. "I let you sleep in my bed and I took the couch."
"Oh. Okay. Thank you, Sam. Sorry about that question, but I just needed to know."
"No, it's fine. You were drunk too, so it makes sense you would've been confused about where you were."
"And boy am I glad I woke up with you. I got trampled, didn't I?"
"Yeah. You couldn't even tell me your address, so I just took you here."
"That's really nice of you, truly."
"Don't sweat it, anyone would do what I did."
"You'd be surprised, honestly. Anyway, what even happened? I only remember you meeting with that big scary tiger."
"Oh, yeah…Banshee," she said, with a surprising coldness in her face. "I don't ever want to see her face again."
"Oh no, did she do something to you?"
"Well, she started spouting speciest crap to me and expected me to be her friend. It was all kinds of messed up. I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could."
"I'm…sorry about that. Truly."
Sam sighed. "It's okay now. The craziest thing happened right after. It was something you did," she grinned.
"Oh, no, what crazy shit did I get into?"
"Well, you saw how uncomfortable I was and confronted her. You ended up throwing margarita at her face."
"I did what? Oh my god, seriously?"
"I got us out of there as soon as I could. Hopefully she doesn't know where I live, but she said she had eyes everywhere. It was super creepy."
"Gosh. I hope they don't come for you because of my mistake."
"Let them come, I got a police friend who will be very happy to put her behind bars."
"That's good, I guess. I really gotta control my drinking, haha," she embarrassingly chuckled.
"Either way, I gotta admit that was kinda badass. You did what I probably would never have done in a million years."
"Don't sell yourself so short, Sam, you still got us out of there. You were kinda the getaway driver," she chuckled, and Sam smiled as well. "Anyways, do you mind if I stay here until my hangover clears? It would mean so much, I promise I'll do whatever you want, I'll do the cooking, the cleaning-"
"Whoa whoa whoa easy there, girl. You're my friend now, I'm here for you. Stay as long as you like. It's kinda nice to have some company from time to time, to be honest."
"Gosh, you are incredibly nice, has anybody told you?"
"Some say I'm too nice for my own good," she looked away, seemingly thinking about something. "I'm…inclined to agree at times."
Lylla noticed her new state of mind, heading over to her side. "Hey now, what's wrong?"
"I-It's nothing, Lylla, just…ugh I was texting this fox for a week and…I thought it could go somewhere and it didn't and sometimes it feels like it's mostly my fault because I'm so naive all the time."
Sam had baggage. Lylla didn't have to be a rocket scientist to realize that. In moments like these, she always thought of many things to say to try and make her feel better, but always fell short on responses, and ended up being too quiet. Many people saw that as her being condescending, thinking she was better than them or that she had never gone through something similar. She did, but it was always hard for her to get it out.
A slight wind knocked out the water bottle on the table, and Lylla went to reach it. While getting the bottle from the floor, Lylla saw something shocking.
"Sam! Your feet! What happened to them?"
"Oh, crap, I must've forgotten to change the bandages yesterday."
What Lylla saw made her stomach drop. Her feet, which should've been a colorful brown, were stained red with blood and covered with bandages. The wound had started bleeding through the bandage and staining the floor. Her blood began to boil, filled with insane possibilities of what might have caused those wounds. She also became nervous at the prospect that this had happened yesterday, while she had been drunk out of her mind. "Y-yesterday, did you-"
"No, Lylla, you have it wrong," she was quick to suppress her thoughts. "This happened almost a week ago."
"A week ago? Was it that fox you were talking about then?"
"Well-" Sam's phone suddenly rang before she could answer. Her eyes widened reading the contact. "Sorry, I really gotta take this."
Lylla finally took the bottle and got up, sitting back into the chair. She quietly waited until Sam was done with her conversation. She still couldn't hope but listen a little bit, only hearing Sam's side of the conversation.
"Yeah? Oh, you have time to meet up? I have time too. Yeah, I don't think anyone followed me. I met a friend actually. Al's Diner? I don't know where that is but I'll check. Be there in 30 minutes." The call must've lasted less than a minute, after which Sam began collecting the coffee mugs and the empty pancake plates. She gave them a quick wash and went back to Lylla's side. "I'm really sorry, Lylla, but I gotta meet with someone now. You can stay here as long as you like, I got lunch in the fridge if you get hungry."
"Wait, Sam, are you seriously just gonna leave a stranger here alone in your home?"
"I got your number, so if you steal anything, there's no getting away from me," she joked, to which Lylla grinned. She was sure Sam would be confident enough to chase her down. She was not a bad girl, either way.
"You sure you can't just tell me about those cuts on your feet before you go?" she asked, concerned.
"I appreciate your worry, Lylla, but I really must go. I'll tell you everything when I get back and maybe we can have a girls night to get to know each other better. How does that sound?"
"That does sound great. Just no drinks," she said.
"Deal. Meet you later, alright?" Sam said, putting on a simple blouse and pants and checking the peephole of the door before she got out, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Lylla.
After Sam left, Lylla decided to show appreciation for what Sam did, and started cleaning the house with what was available, making sure not to reorganize any objects in case she had them there for memory. She started with the dishes and then moved on to the floor, firstly cleaning out the nasty blood marks starting to dry up. She could not forget those nasty wounds, thinking that someone like Sam should not have to go through that kind of pain, not to mention she had apparently tried her chances with a fox, which hadn't gone well by her expression. Lylla saw herself as a person who had a good read on people, which is probably why she had approached Sam back at the Sky's Hoof. She saw Sam as someone who was enduring some deeply-rooted feelings, and sought to make her feel better.
That's right, she became viral for that one video too, she reminded herself. Sam was truly a one of a kind otter, who seemed to be having something going on everyday. She had a cop friend too? Not something any mammal would say.
Either way, if there's anything Lylla knew, is that Sam was someone worth being friends with, and if someone hurts a friend of hers, she'll hurt them back thousandfold. Heaven forbid any fox that tries to harass Sam by entering that door.
A piercing pain and a revolving stomach reminded her that she still had a hangover, and quickly ran to the restroom to egest this morning's breakfast.
"To be honest, I kinda don't want interspecies couples to be legalized, ya know? Think 'bout it, dude, what if people just don't wanna marry their kind anymore? There would be no kids anymore! And when there's no kids, there's no adults, and when there's no adults, there's no kids, and that's a surefire way to become extinct, and no one wants to become extinct, dude. You see so many pro-inter couples nowadays, and like I get it we're free and all, but it's kinda scary. Gone are the days where people have limitations, you know? I've seen squirrels hanging out with rabbits. With rabbits! They're like four times their size, how does it even work, ya know? And then there's those people on TV who straight up lie about the safety of love between species but they don't talk about them new diseases starting up because they stuck it where they didn't need to, ya know? I just wish there were some kinda limits to it. Maybe they can stay legalized, but maybe limit the number of people who can marry into it. You get what I'm saying, pal?"
"Dude, I just wanted to buy the sunflowers," Greg said. "Keep those thoughts to yourself or write them in a book or something, jeez."
"Oh, sorry, mate, here ya go." The crazy hog finally gave him the flowers he needed. Greg, who was a bit bugged by the hog's opinions on interspecies love, gave him twenty dollars and ten cents instead of twenty dollars and sixteen cents.
"And for the record," Greg stated as he was giving him the money. "Love knows no bounds. As long as they're both happy, no one should give a crap."
"Yeah, tell 'em," a random bystander called out. Satisfied, Greg went back to his car and made his way to Tundratown. He was going to talk to Sam about Finnick, but first he had to do his own thing, which was to visit the owner of most of his dreams.
He knew not to be too creepy with his advances, but he figured being friendly never hurt anyone, and he would always be polite and keep his distance, never wanting to make Himmy feel uncomfortable. Hmm, maybe he should switch the nickname too. Some people like that, but not everyone. He had gotten used to making up nicknames for everyone thanks to Uncle Nick, but it wasn't always a way into a lady's heart.
He reached the house. He started doing his "meeting Himmel" routine, which consisted of putting perfume on himself, as well as doing verbal exercises, repeating certain phrases ("The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy hog, the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy hog"), and for the final step, he lost his shit. His heart rate went up, his sinuses constricted, and he was sure his muscles contracted until he lost at least a pound of weight and decreased in height by at least an inch. The things she does to me. What a fox.
Figuring he should at some point, he rang the doorbell and waited for her to open up. She opened up.
He shut his eyes and panicked. "HeyHimmelIbroughtyousomeflowersIhopeyoulovethem!" he screamed, and put the sunflowers on her face.
"Greg," she said, but her voice was different, maybe because they were stuffed with sunflowers, or maybe. "I'm Skye. Himmel's running on her treadmill." At that point, he finally pulled the flowers back and saw Skye's very annoyed face. "Wanna come in?"
"Uhh, y-yeah sure. But I won't be here long. I gotta talk to Sam." He came in, and Skye closed the door behind him.
"Sam, meaning, Finn's lover otter?"
"Future lover otter, there's a difference."
"Oh, so you're that confident you'll convince her to talk to him, again? I thought you said it ended pretty badly."
"It did, but it was kinda my fault it did," his eyes lowered. "I should've told her in a more…tactful way. And I also had no idea Uncle Fin was going to be honest to her. I gotta at least do something or my conscience would never let me sleep."
"Oh, Greg, you and your conscience," Skye said. "Want me to give her the flowers or are you gonna stuff 'em on her face too?"
"Ah hehehe, no I will give them to her. Normally."
"I hope so. Would hate to see her be mad at you. Also I hope you know sunflowers aren't really gonna survive here in Tundratown, because, well, they need to be in warm environments."
"Ah, crap," Greg told himself, facepalming. "Whatever, it's the meaning that matters."
"Whatever you say, Greg. Good luck. What is this, the fourth time you'll ask her out?"
"I'm not asking her out," he said, leaving Skye perplexed. He knew where the treadmill was, since he had already seen Himmel working out on it at one point.
He knocked on the door before he came in, but she was facing the wall, and with headphones on, running on the treadmill pretty quickly. He hated to interrupt her, but it was important that she received this from him.
"Uh, Himmel?" it was futile to call her. She was listening to music on her headphones, and it was so loud he could hear snippets of the lyrics from where he was standing ("It's okay, darling, you're just somebody's fool…") Not wanting to make it more awkward than it should be, he got in front of the treadmill, making sure she didn't get startled, and showed her the flowers. She took out her headphones, and only decreased the speed of the treadmill to a comfortable speed walk.
"Hey Egg, how ya doing?" she asked me, smiling. Gosh, that's such a pretty smile.
"Um, it's Greg actually."
"I know," she smiled again. "It is nickname. You don't like?"
D-did she just say nickname? She gave me a nickname? he thought. He was becoming lightheaded, but reminded himself not to pass out in front of her. "Uhh, y-yes! Yes, I like. I very like! Oh, sorry, I wasn't mocking you, I-"
"Hehehehe, you're funny. But no, Egg, I'm still not gonna date you," she said.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not asking you today. Just came to bring these flowers to you as thanks."
"Sunflowers? No one ever bring me sunflowers before. And thanks for what?"
"For helping out yesterday," he said, smiling with warmth. "You didn't have to, but you still did."
"It is nothing. I help my sister with anything."
"Right. Anyway, I hope you like these."
"They are pretty, but sunflowers die in tundra, Egg. You don't know?"
"I do, yeah. Your sister pointed it out. Doesn't matter, though, I'll just bring you more as an excuse to see you everyday."
"You are dumb,hehehe," she said, smiling again. "But you are better than grumpy fennec. Egg, being interested in Himmel like that."
"For now, I'm more than happy being friends."
"For now, huh?" she repeated, taking the flowers and admiring them. "See you tomorrow then…Egg," she smiled again and put on her headphones, waving him goodbye. "Adjö," she said in her mother tongue.
"Yeah…Adjoo to you too."
Greg was still in cloud nine as he slowly exited the room where Himmel had begun to run again at high speeds. "She called me Egg," he repeated in his mind, or was he saying it outloud? "She called me Egg."
He proceeded to fantasize all the way to his car(He still said goodbye to Skye and told her that Finnick was doing okay, he was no savage) and just kept thinking about how sweet that nickname came out of her mouth. How long had she been thinking about naming him that? It didn't matter, she did and it was glorious. Was there a chance to be with her? Greg didn't know, but he sure as heck was falling even harder for her. Those cute ears, her blue eyes, those muscles. Those muscles.
He concentrated on the road before he committed vehicular manslaughter and set his course to the Rainforest District, where he would hopefully convince Sam the otter to give Finnick the fennec another chance. Sam couldn't be too far from when he saw her that time when he clogged that house's gutter and fell on it. Not his best moment for sure.
He reached Amazonian street, and went door-to-door asking for an otter named Sam. None had answers for him, which was kinda weird seeing that Sam was someone that would probably get along with their neighbors. That, or maybe they were surprised by him, a fox. It's not that he can judge them too much, not many foxes visit the Rainforest district compared to all the others. Finally, he reached the door numbered 21, and rang the second doorbell of the day. Another one and it would bring bad luck, Nick always used to say.
An otter did indeed open the door, but the lack of glasses and the brown eyes had clued him in that it was not Sam. "Sorry to bother you, miss, but do you know someone named Sam living around here?"
The otter didn't respond right away, instead looking at him from top to bottom, scanning his features. "You…" she said sinisterly, which came as a surprise to Greg.
"Me? Me what?"
"You're the fox that cut Sam's feet, aren't you?"
"W-what? I'm not-"
"Prepare to die," she said, grabbing him by the leg and pushing him inside.
"And then!" a vixen screamed violently as she spouted all deal of spit and tears into the table of the small diner in Sahara Square. "He tried to call me back, saying he was sorry! That it was just his sister helping him wash the house to surprise me. The nerve of this guy! I caught them smooching each other, plain and center. I bet you she's still in there, mocking me and making a fool out of myself!"
"Easy there, Winnie!" I tell her, trying to get her to calm down. "I get you're angry, but you don't wanna spook Al's customers, do you? Or bring any unwanted attention. The reason I do these sessions in broad daylight and around a lot of people is for your safety and your safety only."
This successfully got her to calm down, grabbing a brown napkin from one of those diner napkin holders or whatever they were called. The kinds that looked like toasters. Anyway, she blew her nose and wiped her tears, swallowing her saliva and breathing slowly. "What can I do, Officer Wilde?"
"Not an officer right now, Winnie," I corrected her for the third time today. "First thing you can do is dump his ass, unless you're already planning to?" For all that is holy, please say yes.
"I'm done with that moron. He can keep his 'sister' for all I care."
I try not to make her notice my relieved sigh. "That's great. The next thing you can do is kick both of them out of your house, since you're more than legally liable to do so."
"R-really?"
"Yep. You tell me you're the one paying the rent monthly, right? He doesn't help at all?"
"No."
"Then all he's doing is leeching off your hard work. Same goes for Miss Incest there. Sorry to say this, but who knows how many times she's come over while you were working?"
"Oh gosh, I didn't even think about that! So…disgusting!"
"I recommend you burn those sheets after this is over. Anyways, since you're the only one paying rent, and also the only person currently on the lease, I can call an officer to come pick those two up and take them to the good ol' jail, where I will also be sure to start the process of a restraining order."
"Wait, you can pick them up right now?" she asked me incredulously.
"Yes indeed. I don't play with forced entry, and that's what those two are doing right now. They're gonna get their just desserts."
I could see the light of the vixen suddenly returning. "You're a saint, Officer Wilde!" She got up and hugged me, and I returned it out of kindness. Al, the anteater owner of this establishment, gave me a look that I did not appreciate.
"Easy there, Winnie!" I told her, as she started pressing on my windpipe too hard. I had another appointment soon after she was done, so I needed to be alive by then. She let go, gave me another fond smile, and started walking out.
"You have my number!" She exclaimed, the jingle of the bells at the door signaling her exit. She bumped on something on the way out and went off into the distance. Where, you ask? Not the slightest idea. But I do know what she bumped with, or rather who she bumped with.
"Sam! Just in time for our ten-thirty appointment, woah. Couldn't wait to see me, huh?"
"Could you be more discreet, Nick? Also, I thought it was one of your special agents that was meeting me," said the otter, sitting down awkwardly at the other side of the table.
"Sorry, it's good ol' Nick today. My special agent couldn't make it. Sam, this is my trusted headquarters, there's no place more safe than here."
"I mean, I believe you, but people are still staring. I'm still the same otter from the video last week."
"And what do you know, I'm still the same fox from the video last week," I say, with my usual prideful mug. I can tell she's still unnerved, so I tone it down for a bit. Just for a bit. "Look, it's fine, alright? Al here might be a knucklehead but he's a sweetheart. He doesn't care about dumb rumors."
"Call me a knucklehead again and I'll kick you out of your 'trusted headquarters', Piberius." Yuck. All I can think is yuck in my mind. Al had a terrible habit of calling me by my middle name, and while I really didn't hate it that much, I never liked how it came out of his mouth.
"Did you not hear me also saying you were a sweetheart, or are those ant-infested ears corroding already?"
"Nick! Please, focus?" I look back to her, and no smile is present in her features. Clearly the banter was not doing anything to fix her mood.
"...bad date?" I dare to ask.
"The worst," she dared to respond.
"May I ask why? As a member of the fox species, my deepest apologies."
"Oh no, you don't have to do that. He was sweet, just…dishonestly sweet, if that makes sense."
"Mmm. Well then, there are more foxes in the sea, Sam. Actually, not as many as there are fish, but never stop looking for the right mammal. After all, it took me thirty-three years," I said, smirking, which brought back her smile.
"Enough about that date. How about we do what we came here to do?"
"Now you're speaking my language," I said, skillfully pulling out a notebook and pen, filling out all kinds of information about Sam's devilish ex.
"So…I thought you were a cop. Why do you have time to meet with me like this?" Sam asked.
I still kept my eyes on the paper, but responded nonetheless, "You may take the fox out of the streets, but never the streets out of the fox, Sammers. On my days off from the beat, I do all kinds of gigs. All legal, obviously, and most of them involve helping people, specifically people like me, who were down on their luck and discriminated against for their species. I also deal with making sure restriction orders are actually pulled through and not paid off, which is what concerns you."
"Huh, so that vixen that almost squashed my tail was a client of yours?"
"Oh yeah. I can't tell you what it was, obviously, strictly confidential."
"Judy must be so proud of you."
That did get me to lift my eyes from the page, staring at Sam with a smile. "That she does. She inspires me to be like her every single day," I say, with the most serious face I've ever made. "Even though she just tells me to be me," I scoff, turning back to the paper. "A-anyway, I already pulled up some info on him from the ZPD system, and it seems like Buddy boy has been involved in serious stuff."
"Max? Really?"
"Oh yeah. Grand theft auto," It took all of me not to say Grand Theft Otto right there. "Breaking and entering, DUI, gang affiliation. The works."
"That's insane. I was living with a criminal for an entire year," she said perplexed.
"And his full name is Max M. Otto, correct?"
"He never mentioned a middle name, but that's definitely his last name. Is it really that important?"
"It is if it's also your last name," I tell her straight.
Sam blinked three times. "Excuse me?"
"I did some digging and found Mr. Otto had a Mrs. Otto registered in his files. Guess who's face came up?"
Her eyes widened. "What? He…did that?" she looked genuinely disgusted and taken aback. She couldn't possibly be lying. She didn't know this had been a thing.
"Pardon if it seemed like I was accusing you of something, Sam, but I also tried looking up your maiden name in other sources and it didn't come up anywhere. Not even Snoutbook! You can understand my surprise."
"Well…that's because I… lied about my last name."
Never in a thousand years would I have thought that someone as sweet as Sam would lie, nevermind lie to me! The master of liars! Man, what's up with me and small mammal women hustling me? I'm really out of my element. "Why exactly did you lie?" I ask her.
"Because my last name is moronic and embarrassing?"
Really? That's her reason? "Sam, with all due respect, you struck me as a person who wouldn't care what people thought of her…"
"I don't, usually…but for this one…I am very much not comfortable with revealing to anyone."
"Well…for the sake of evidence, could I please know your last name? This is for your safety, Sam," I tell her, with utmost seriousness.
She sighs. "Fine, if it's really that important. It's…"
When she told me her true name, it took a moment before I could fully react. I didn't want to be mean, but it was simply very…ridiculous. Sam was not lying. However, there were a lot of shocking last names in the world, and Sam's was definitely not the weirdest one he'd heard in his life. "I have another question. Just out of pure curiosity. If you hate your last name so much, couldn't you just happily change it to something else?" I didn't want to keep incriminating her, but I have to look at all of the facts. I can't let my thoughts of her reflect on my investigation. That leads to sloppiness, and sloppiness leads to the mystery not being solved.
"Of course I wouldn't change it. Why would I change the name my parents gave me?" she said, a sad expression forming. "They were…they were everything to me."
Aw, crap, Wilde. Now you went and made her think of sad things. You're being very lousy and inconsiderate. Judy would smack you in the head if she was here. Actually, I can already kinda feel it. Get out of my consciousness, Judy!
"Okay, Sam. Sorry about that, truly. Let's review the facts we have, shall we?" She nodded weakly. "Okay, so Max must be rich, or at least have a lot of money to be able to not only forge a marriage certificate but to pay up a judge. Considering he's been in gangs, he's probably involved in some kind of mob."
"...mob?" She asked me, and sighed. "This could not be any worse."
"Don't worry, alright? Me and Judy? We're not going to stop until we find out what his business is with you. If we get good evidence that he's dealing with mobsters, we're gonna be able to get a warrant for his arrest, and a very good reason for a federal judge to happily issue a restriction order for you. As for your last name, I'll see with a judge if he can do anything to fix it for you. Sounds like a plan?"
"That does sound really good, yeah. Anything to get away from that scumbag."
"That's the spirit. Now, keep your paws on that phone if anything out of the ordinary happens. I'll be there as soon as the phone rings. If there's nothing else you'd like to discuss-"
"Actually, there is," she told me suddenly. "It happened yesterday, at the Sky's Hoof."
"The Sky's Hoof?" I ask her. "How in the world were you there? That's a place for the megarich to flaunt all their money."
"Yeah, I saw that. I actually got invited."
"By who?"
She told me all about the events from last night, making sure to write down every single detail, from the fact that Ms. Floor herself had invited Sam to spend some time at the top of the Sky's Hoof, but that wasn't the kicker of the story. The party's organizer, Banshee, had shared a few drinks and food with Sam, all while talking a lot of crap about me. And then a friend she made gets drunk and drops margarita on her eyes? Brutal! I feel for Sam, but I can't help but think about how gripping her life is. It's straight out of some soap opera.
"You don't really need to help with that, I just thought you should know someone as powerful as her kinda hates you."
"A lot of people hate me, Sam. I let that not get to me."
"Yeah, but she's rich and powerful. She could try to do something."
"And to that, you know what I say, Sam? Let her try. Let's see how well she would fare against a sly fox and an angry bunny."
"Hehe, I'm glad you're that confident, Nick. Anyway, I gotta go now. I still have that friend back at my apartment, and I don't wanna keep them waiting too long."
"By all means, Sam, you can go," I got up to say goodbye. Remember, though, if anything so much as moves funny, make sure to ca-"
I wasn't expecting the small brown-furred girl to go up and hug me so suddenly, but I dared not to finish it. She needed comfort; she did go through a lot in the span of a week. "I know I shouldn't say it so much," Sam said, her eyes closed. "But I can't thank you enough for doing this, Nick. I…this week hasn't been the best and-"
"There, there," I said to her, returning the hug. "You don't have to thank us. We will always help a mammal in need, no matter what. It's kinda why Judy and I are so awesome."
She laughed, and then softly let go. "This week will be better. I just know it in my gut."
"I know it will, Sam. Now, be safe out there, alright?"
"Always," she gave me a small smile, and then she turned around to leave, the bell of the entrance ringing as she opened it. It was a brief conversation, but for her safety, she needed to get home quickly. I began to gather my things and said goodbye to Al, making my way to my car and making sure I wasn't being followed. When all seemed okay, I touched the earpiece on my left ear. "You heard all that, Carrots?"
Okay, just calm down, Sam. Everything will be better this week, was her constant thought process on her way back home. Her meeting with Nick had calmed her nerves a little, but it didn't mean she was out of the waters yet. She hadn't seen Max yet, which was a relief, but it just felt like the calm before the storm. Max wouldn't give up so easily, but she didn't know what he could be planning.
Why did he even care about her after all that time? What was his motive? To torment her more? To make her feel lesser than him, like he had already done so spectacularly? Can a person be that cartoonishly evil? She couldn't even fathom why someone would harbor such ill-mannered feelings toward her. She will never stop asking herself why the world always seemed to be against her.
Pushing those negative thoughts away, Sam arrived at her house, not destroyed by the mob yet, seemingly as normal as she had left it. She hoped Lylla hadn't gone anywhere. They hadn't exchanged phone numbers yet and she didn't think the otter was sober enough to go home, let alone traverse the Rainforest, which was filled with bridges with very far drops.
Getting out of her scooter and walking up to her home, she heard a commotion. "No, don't do it, please!" she heard a panicked…male voice? It was inside her house. Sam began to panic, wondering if someone had broken into her home while Lylla was there. That certainly was a terrible development. "No, anything but there!" Strangely, the voice was incredibly familiar, like she had just heard it yesterday.
Dropping her scooter right at the entrance, she opened the door expecting the absolute worst. "Lylla, be care-," she tried to say, but the scenery was not what she expected. "-ful?" There was Lylla, not a scratch on her, thank all the divine gods… and then there was Greg.
"Darn, why would you do that? I had a perfect estate right there! I could've controlled the oil," he said to the otter. They were playing a board game on the floor.
"Not my fault you don't protect your businesses. They were wide open, ripe for the taking."
They hadn't even noticed her return, too engrossed in the game. A slight twitch from Greg's eye finally made him notice her. "Sam! You're here!" he screamed, waving at her.
"Hey, Sam, how was the meeting you didn't wanna go into detail about?" asked Lylla.
"I-it was fine, more importantly, what the hell is he doing here?" she asked. Greg became visibly uncomfortable.
"W-well, I messed up, Sam. I thought he was that fox you said broke your heart, and I tried to fight him. Good thing he's a good guy and explained what was going on. Sorry again, Greg."
"No problem. I understand how a misunderstanding could've been made. It was nice we talked about it like adults."
"Yeah, that was very good of us."
"Hey, don't ignore me, Greg," Sam said furiously. "I thought I made it very clear to you that I don't ever wanna see you or him again."
"I know, and I understand how it was very messed up that he did that…but he really does feel bad about it."
"I don't care," she said, furrowing her brow and crossing her arms. "He should've thought about it before he invited me to cook for him."
"That's part of the problem. I shouldn't have told you about what he did."
"You what? So you would've allowed me to live out his lie?" she got more furious and walked up to him, ready to vent all of her frustrations on the much bigger mammal. But Lylla stopped her by gently grabbing her arm.
"Sam…just listen to him," she said candidly, surprising her. Sam didn't know the otter that well, yet, but she thought Lylla of all people would understand where she came from. Either way, she did as she said, and quietly waited for Greg to speak. She was also realizing that being mad at Greg wasn't very logical. After all, it was him that actually told her, so at least he must care a little bit about her feelings.
"Can I sit down, at least?" Sam asked, to which Greg nodded. She sat on the sofa of the living room, and Greg took a seat on the floor at the opposite side of the coffee table.
"Thank you, Lylla," he told her, then addressing Sam. "Look. I've done some hustling gigs too, alright? It's the only way I've been able to live. Sometimes no one is harmed but other times we can't help but swindle nice people."
"So when I found you in the gutter-"
He sighed, "Yes. I clogged it myself. Guess I got payback for that right away, huh?"
"Yeah, you did. Continue."
"Remember when I told you Nick also used to hustle with us?" Sam nodded. "Well, that's how he met Miss Hopps too. They hated each other's guts for a while until they didn't, and solved a plot that saved the world."
"And you think it'll happen the exact same way with us? I don't buy it."
"Sam, he isn't a bad guy, he-"
"You don't know how many times I've heard that phrase, Greg. 'Oh, he isn't bad, Sam, he's just a little protective, he does love you.' 'Sam, you're exaggerating, he's only doing this because he loves you.' Well, I'm done being a naive little otter who gets taken advantage of every step of the way. For once, I'm gonna be taking control of my life, and no one is going to tell me any differently. Now, I'm sorry, but tell Finnick that there's plenty more foxes in the sea."
"He wanted to say sorry!" he blurted out, startling Sam.
"Huh?"
"That exact same day, when I told you all about him, he was about to be honest with you. He was planning to tell you everything, and I mean everything! From Nick leaving him all the way to hustling you and feeling bad about it. He's truly, truly sorry, Sam."
"Then why isn't he here? If he's so goddamn sorry, why didn't he come here to say it himself."
Greg scoffed. "Because he's a coward. The second he feels like he's getting too close with someone, he'll try to sabotage it. But his biggest mistake was meeting me, because I don't give up no matter what."
Sam didn't know when Lylla had gotten on her side, but the otter started to whisper something to her. "Man, that fox is relentless. It's kinda attractive," she said, smiling mischievously.
"Look, I don't want to try and tug your heartstrings because I know it's toxic to do that, but you still deserve to know, since you guys became so close over text: Finnick is not okay. I mean, he wasn't exactly the most stable individual before, but now it's worse. Ever since Uncle Nick left to pursue his own things, he's been different."
"Different, how?" Sam asked. She hated that she was kind of curious about this.
"He's…sadder. Like he really doesn't want to be a hustler anymore. And he's good at hustling, he's done it his whole life. It just seems like without Nick there isn't much of a point to it."
"So what, he's gonna recruit me to become his next hustling partner? Pass."
"Not at all, Sam. It seemed like he really needed someone to talk to that wasn't me. He even refused to do hustles so that he could keep talking to you! That's a big deal. He got a very expensive and exotic salmon so that you could eat something different than just your average salmon. He really cared about what you thought."
"Even if all you said it's true, I've trusted too many people, and they've all let me down. What's the difference this time?"
"He's lonely, Sam," Greg said, looking down on the floor. "I wish you could see him when we're in the van. All he does when he's not hustling is just lie on his bed, scrolling through his phone doing nothing, just going about the day like nothing matters. But when he started texting you? It's like the old him had reanimated. He started going out more, buying more groceries. I even saw him smiling, and that's like, something he never does! He cares about you, Sam, and I know, I know, with all my heart, that he would never go so far as to throw a large glass pitcher of water at you. He was actually really mad when he discovered that."
Sam remained speechless, quietly listening to his speech. His mannerisms portrayed pure honesty. He wasn't hustling her, he wasn't trying to make fun of her by lifting up her spirits about this seemingly failed date. He was a concerned nephew wanting the best for his uncle, and Sam was part of the help he needed, as unbelievable as that sounded. While she was skeptical about Finnick, Greg's cause seemed innocent.
"I'm just asking for a one and only chance. Just to make me feel better about what I did to him. He may be a lot, but he's still my family. The person that raised me to be who I am. I love him, Sam. I really do, and I'll endure any punishment if it means I can get him to heal."
To heal. It was something Sam didn't know she needed as well. She hadn't thought about how much Max's return had affected her, and how much comfort her conversations with Finnick brought her, no matter if they were completely truthful or not. Sam, too, like Finnick, was lonely, and had a limited source of people that could help her heal. Therapists were an option, but they weren't always the solution, not to mention a good one cost more than what Sam could afford. Finnick made her cry, yes, but it was nothing to the pain she felt when Max left her, or when he came back just to abuse her some more. Finnick targeted someone he didn't know, but Max knew her very well, and didn't care about hurting her.
"Fine," she made her choice. She could say no. She knew she could say no. But Sam was nothing if not a raging optimist, just like her mother before her. "I will meet with him ONCE. If he messes up again, consider my relationship with him, friendship or otherwise, dead. Am I clear?"
"Y-yeah. Clear! Clear as water! Sam, you're not gonna regret this!" He screamed, seemingly tearing up? "You're so nice."
"Now hold on a second, this isn't going to be like last time. I'm gonna come prepared."
"Y-yeah. *Sniff* For sure it won't. I'll mold him into shape in no time!"
"But it means I have a set of rules for him to follow," she said, putting her own smug smile that would challenge Nick's. "Tell me, Greg, does Finnick own any costumes?" The wheels began turning on her otter brain. She was actually excited to meet with Finnick again. Greg only looked at her with a nervous fear.
And Lylla? Well, she was thinking of many ways to flirt with the handsome arctic fox in front of her.