I know you

I walked with you once upon a dream

There was something grim and urgent in the air when Carmelita stepped through the front doors of Interpol HQ the next day. Officers and office workers alike hurried back and forth without even glancing her way, and she felt a ball of unease settle in her stomach as she made her way up to the floor where her office was situated. Everyone was frantic around her like a hive of bees that had just lost their queen.

She turned a corner and nearly collided with Winthorp, who jumped a meter into the air with a squeak.

"Winthorp, what's going on?" She asked. "Why is the entire department up in arms?"

"Ah - well - you see -" the otter stammered, and now that she was really looking at him, she could see the same lines of stress across his face as with everyone else. "I'm not - not really at liberty to say but - oh, yeah, about that! Inspector Barkley wants to s-see you right away!"

The inspector blinked, confused and concerned. "Again?"

"Yes! He wanted to see you as soon as you came into work!" Winthorp gave her an apologetic look. "I was - I was supposed to call to let you know but with - with everything going on I just -"

"It's fine," Carmelita cut him off before he could start rambling. She pivoted in place and started walking without looking back. "Thanks."

"A-Anytime!"

The idea of returning to her boss's office right on the heels of a major dressing-down had the woman's stomach turning, but she kept her head high and tried not to let her nerves get the best of her. At the very least, he'd be able to tell her what the hell was going on around here without any sugarcoating.

Barkley didn't even look up from his computer when Inspector Fox entered the room. He took a long puff of his cigar, baggy eyes illuminated by the small red glow, and smoke curled around his white mustache, giving the illusion of it being even bigger than it was. Smoking in the office meant he was beyond stressed- an even worse omen than everything else she'd seen this morning.

"You wanted to see me again, sir?" She asked as soon as the door was shut behind her.

"Fox," he grunted, waving a hand towards the empty chair in front of his desk without looking up. Carmelita sat down immediately and resisted the urge to speak until he was done with his private train of thought.

Finally he pulled his eyes from his screen and set a thick manilla folder between them, flipping it open until it landed on a picture of a giant muscular bulldog sneering at the camera.

"What do you know about this man here?" The badger asked, steepling his fingers together as he squinted at her.

She glanced down at the photo. "Muggshot. Aliases "Two Gun Tony", also known as "Meathead" Muggshot. Member of the Fiendish Five. Wanted in five countries with ten outstanding warrants for his arrest."

Inspector Barkley didn't move a muscle as she recited details from the criminal's case file without having to read it. His brow drew even heavier down over his eyes.

"Sir, what's this about? Why is everyone so frantic out there? Is it related to Muggshot? Did we finally pinpoint his location?"

"It's less that we pinpointed it and more that he's announced it," her boss said, grim and gruff and angry. "Fourteen hours ago, Mesa City in Nevada, USA experienced a coordinated attack on its police force by a gang of canines. As of 2 AM our time, they've completely taken over the city and have driven out all its civilians. Muggshot has declared it as his territory."

Inspector Fox's mouth fell open.

"He - that's - that's ludicrous!" She exclaimed, unable to keep her total disbelief out of her tone. What kind of police force couldn't keep a group of criminals from taking over an entire city?

The badger growled and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. It was clear he was fighting a headache. "I'm well aware. And instead of sending in state or even federal officers, the US government wants us to take care of it. I was contacted barely an hour ago and told that we 'needed to handle the situation as quickly as possible'."

Ah. That explained the frenzy throughout the entire building. Carmelita pursed her lips and squared her shoulders.

"What do you want me to do, sir?" She asked, knowing that he wouldn't have called her into his office just to bring her up to speed on something that even Winthorp could have told her.

"Right now, we need information. We don't know how many people Muggshot has hired to defend his claim, what kinds of weapons or other resistance we'd be facing, or even where he's stationed his base of operations. It's a large city and I do not want my officers walking into a slaughter. The last thing we need on top of a takeover is a damn turf war."

Her fists clenched in righteous rage, even as her head was spinning. "You want me to be a covert operative."

"I do." Barkley gave her a harsh, critical stare. "I know most of the cases you've taken have been raids or following criminal trails. This is an entirely different ball game. Subtlety is crucial here, and we can't afford to screw this up. People's entire lives and livelihoods are on the line. Do you understand, Fox?"

The inspector's tongue felt like sandpaper inside her mouth as she answered. "Yes, sir. I won't let you down."

"Good." Even so, her boss did not look entirely convinced. "Now get out of this office and go pack. You've got a plane to catch."

Mesa City was famous even outside of its own country. It was a thriving "boom town" that saw a lot of tourists, a lot of traffic, and a lot of wealth, and crime had always been remarkably low for such a large city. Now, there was absolutely nothing to suggest that it was anything other than a ghost town.

It turned Carmelita's stomach as she killed the engine of her car and stepped cautiously out onto a deserted street. In fact, the entire city was devoid of anything that would normally classify it as a city; quiet and empty and completely dark. It left a chill in the air much deeper than the wind already whistling through the buttes and plateaus around it. There wasn't a single other soul to be found here.

Except for one lone officer with something to prove.

The fox shivered and wrapped her beige jacket a little more securely around her, hiding her shock pistol at her hip and her Interpol badge at the base of her throat. Even so, she felt like a Christmas tree lit up in a dark void of light-sucking leeches, and every shadow and noise stood her fur on end as she took her first proper steps into Mesa City.

Covert ops. She'd run simulations in the academy and done a few simple cases here and there, but nothing on this scale, and she could already feel the oppressive hand of expectation weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Valedictorian, prodigy, expert marksman, youngest ever Interpol graduate - none of those pretty words of praise mattered when faced with ten to twenty years of hard experience dismissing her input on cases or cornering her in the break room to interrogate her about how she would respond to increasingly outlandish scenarios. Her most recent failure - the entire string of recent failures - was just the icing on the cake. If she messed this one up, none of the senior officers would ever take her seriously again.

Not even Barkley would be willing to back her up anymore.

No. No, she shook her head to clear the cloud threatening to dull her thoughts. You can do this. You will do this.

Second only to the Diva Diamond case, this was her biggest chance to show everyone just how capable she truly was. Muggshot was an infamous criminal, almost above her shiny new pay grade as a detective inspector. All Carmelita really needed to do was get the intel asked of her without getting caught, relay it back to HQ, and wait for backup to help in the raid proper.

All too easy. And if she was lucky enough, she might not even have to use her shock pistol.

Back straightening at the mental pep talk, Inspector Fox's stride quickened into something a little more confident.

She could do this.

Tony Bull-Mastiff took a long drag of his cigarette as he picked up another card from the deck. It was a bunk card to go with the rest of his bunk hand, and he huffed an irritated smoky breath out between clenched teeth. The dalmatian across from him, Inkspot Jackson, gave the slightest smirk in response.

"You're cheating."

"Nah. You just suck."

The mastiff growled, but it did nothing to faze his opponent, who only stared coolly back at him without so much as a blink. The same could not be said for the third player at the table - a jittery little terrier whose name he didn't care enough to learn - because he startled so badly he bumped the table enough to make it rattle.

"Watch it," Tony snapped at him. The terrier jolted again but didn't make it a problem for the rest of them, and they all settled back into their playing.

After a few more minutes, he leaned back in his chair, thoughts more preoccupied with something other than the game he was losing.

"So…what's the deal with the kid?"

"What kid?"

"The raccoon. Why's the boss carting him around with the pack? It's pretty obvious he ain't one of us."

The other two dogs stared at him like he had just asked why the sky was blue. He stared them down, daring them to tell him he was an idiot for asking a simple question.

"Oh, right. I forgot you're new to Muggshot's crew." Inkspot passed his cards back and forth between his hands with the grace of a professional dealer. "That ringtail has been around on and off for years. He's Muggshot's livin' lockpick."

Tony's eyebrows shot up his forehead in interest. "Is he now? Where'd the guy find him?"

"No idea, and I'm not paid enough to care. You gonna play your turn or not?"

Instead of picking up another card he knew was going to lose him more money, the mastiff laid his hand down and leaned forward to pull the others into a conspiratorial huddle.

"Is he still here? You said he's only around sometimes."

Both dalmatian and terrier shared a look. It was the latter that piped up.

"Yeah, he's still here. As soon as I finished setting up that special elevator to the penthouse, the boss carted him upstairs and hasn't brought him down since. Why?"

"You helped with the elevator?" Inkspot asked, surprised.

"Forget all that," Tony waved an irritated hand in the air to keep the conversation on topic. "That means he's still up there, right?"

It took only a moment for his real question to register. The terrier shook his head adamantly.

"Don't even think about it. He's on the top floor."

Nothing else needed to be said. No one, not even Mugshot's favorite lackeys, stepped a foot higher than the ninth. Top floor was reserved for the bulldog and the bulldog alone.

That also meant, of course, that their boss' special guest was off-limits, too. But off-limits had never stopped Tony "The Killer" B. before, and it wasn't going to stop him now. He stood, picked up his cards, and offered it to the dalmatian with a scheming grin.

"Well. The boss is out on the town tonight and I got a job that could use a safecracker. How's about we stop playing for chump change and get our money's worth for our fine work on this big job?"

The terrier started to protest, but Tony's looming figure shut him up real quick. Inkspot eyed the offered cards with a greedy gleam in his eye that was only offset by a healthy dose of fear.

"What happens if Muggshot finds out about any of this? He's shot men for much less than stealin' from him, in case you didn't know."

"We're not stealin'. We're just borrowin' without permission. We'll get what we want and put the kid back in his cradle before you can finish a round of Texas Hold'em. Whaddya say?"

The dalmatian still hesitated, having been in Muggshot's gang for far longer and well-aware of his infamous temper. But ultimately, the promise of money won over, and he took the cards with his own creeping grin.

"Spark," he said to the terrier, who looked like he was going to have an aneurysm, "do you know how to get into that special elevator?"

Spark whined as they both turned to him. "If you think I'm goin' along with a stupid scheme like this -"

"C'mon, 'Spark'," Tony gave a laugh that was more of a growl, wrapping one burly arm around the other dog's much tinier frame. "Do you really wanna let this city's pretty things go to waste? What's the point in scarin' everybody away if we can't take advantage of their absence?"

"I wanna not be shot to pieces," he replied, exasperated and stressed, but the slightest squeeze of the mastiff's hand made him grimace. "Okay! Fine! Only if we're in and out as fast as possible."

"Look who you're talkin' to here, pal. Between the three of us, it's gonna take twenty minutes tops. Now what was that about gettin' into the special elevator?"

The terrier led them unwillingly to the hotel's front lobby, where he pulled a shiny blue key out from one pocket.

"I'm one of the only guys who knows maintenance," he explained when Inkspot's mouth fell open at the sight of it. "The boss trusts me cause he has to."

"Then it sure is a good thing we found ya first, huh?" Tony grunted, getting impatient. "Go on, then."

Spark unlocked the cubby and pulled the lever to call the elevator down; all three dogs watched with different levels of respect as it appeared out of its genius secret hiding place and opened for them without any hassle or opposition.

They went straight up to the top floor and began searching rooms. Inkspot's nose worked double-time to pick up the raccoon's scent and it had him leading the others down one specific hallway.

It didn't take long to find what they were looking for. A single suite door was barricaded from the outside with a thick wooden plank nailed horizontally across it, sticking out like a sore thumb among a dozen other untouched doors. Tony grinned and made short work of ripping the plank right off.

The door itself wasn't locked, and they all barged in as one large, muscular group. Just as expected, there was a raccoon inside, who sat up quickly where he'd been lying on a fancy plush bed, staring at the three of them in surprise. When they advanced into the room, the kid got to his feet and tried to keep his distance.

"Who are you? What do you want?" He asked, prickly in every word.

Tony grinned. "We're here to collect ya for a job. Boss's orders."

The raccoon looked each of them up and down and then took another step back. His eyes shifted to the red backpack at the foot of his bed, just out of his reach.

"What, don't believe us?"

"No," he said, curt, "because Muggshot always comes for me himself. What do you really want?"

The mastiff's lip pulled back in an irritated snarl. "Fine, brat. We're enjoyin' a night out on the town and we'd like you to join us."

"What is that supposed to mean?" The raccoon spit back, inching away from the trio as Inkspot circled around towards his left side.

"Not whatever you think it is." Already impatient, the dog crossed the room in two strides, forcing his target to flatten himself against the wall just to avoid touching him. "This city is officially ours, so I figured that includes anything shiny that catches my eye."

He shot one arm out to catch the raccoon by the front of his hoodie before he could even think of trying to duck under him in retreat.

"And from what I hear, you got a special little talent for getting into things yer not s'pposed to."

The kid's expression darkened and he looked away, tense as a bowstring. His next words came out in a mumble - a last ditch effort to dissuade the pack.

"Muggshot isn't going to like that you took me out of my room without permission, you know."

"What the boss don't know won't make him mad. And besides, we won't be gone long. No one's gonna notice that you're gone."

The other two dogs shared an apprehensive glance, but they didn't say their concerns out loud. Tony grinned and lifted the raccoon to his eye level.

"You ain't gonna cause no trouble for us now, got it? Muggshot ain't gotta know 'bout your little late-night outing. We're just takin' ya for a walk. Seein' the sights."

The kid's gaze flickered between the three of them. It was clear he was weighing the immediate danger of their presence against the potential danger of Muggshot. And while they all feared the bulldog's wrath, it would only come to pass if he found out. These three could and would do very real damage, very fast. Their unwilling guest seemed to understand that, at least, because he eventually wilted in the bruiser's hold.

"Good boy." Tony dropped him, and he stumbled to catch himself. "Hurry up and get yer shoes on. The sooner we leave the sooner we get back."

After shooting a nasty look at the dog, he crouched to slide on the shoes sitting at the end of his bed. His fingers closed around the handles of his red backpack as he stood up, but Inkspot pulled it out of his hold before he could sling it across his back.

"What's in here?" He asked, giving it a suspicious sniff.

"My lockpicking stuff. I'll need it if I'm going to help you get what you want."

"Hmm…" The dalmatian unzipped the largest compartment and started rummaging through it. He pulled out a golden hook, which made the kid stiffen. "What's this? Doesn't look like a lockpick to me."

"It's - it's like a crowbar. I use it to pry open heavy doors." His hands twitched at his sides as the dog turned it over and over. "I don't exactly have the strength that you guys do."

Tony snorted. Inkspot smirked. Even Spark let out a strange little squeak that could have been a laugh. The hook was dumped back into the backpack and it was pushed into the raccoon's arms, who zipped it up and clutched it close before any of them changed their minds.

Tony grabbed him by the arm and steered him out of the room.

"Let's go."

Carmelita's ears perked up at the sound of shattering glass and the excited holler of criminals. She peered around the corner of a building to see three muscled dogs sauntering out of a jewelry shop, draped in silver and gems and god knew what else.

"Not a bad haul, eh, boys?" The largest of them crowed, patting another hard at his back with diamond-encrusted bracelets wrapped around his fingers like brass knuckles. "Can't argue with results, can ya?"

The inspector felt her hackles rise at the sight. How dare these men flaunt their violence and disrespect of the law while thousands of people had to flee their homes, their businesses, their livelihoods?

Before she got the chance to even take a step out from the shadow of the building, one of the dogs turned back and pulled a fourth member out through the shattered front door. A raccoon, looking no older than seventeen or eighteen, who stood uncomfortably between the three like he would rather be
anywhere else.

He's not wearing any jewelry, Carmelita noticed with narrowed eyes. The police reports had claimed that all of Muggshot's followers were canine, and almost all with criminal records already. But this…kid, looked more like a civilian than a crook.

He murmured something that she was too far away to catch. Whatever it was, the biggest dog – the leader of this posse, she was guessing – didn't like it at all. With a snarl, he lunged for the raccoon, who made a valiant attempt at avoidance but hit a brick wall of muscle as the other two dogs corralled him.

Large meaty hands grabbed the kid by his shirt collar, lifting him off his feet. He kicked the air uselessly with panicked eyes as the dog spit a nasty threat an inch from his face.

Inspector Fox decided she had seen enough.

"Halt!"

Everyone froze as she finally revealed herself, shock pistol loaded and raised.

"Put him down right now and put your hands in the air," she commanded, turning her body so that the light of the nearest street lamp caught the badge at her throat. "The three of you are all under arrest."

The dogs blinked at her in simultaneous shock. Then the biggest one threw his head back and began to laugh, letting his hostage slip between giant fingers and land on his feet with only a small stumble.

"Like any of us are scared 'a you, doll," the mastiff sneered. "Don't know why you raided the local cop station for that gun and badge, but it won't do ya any good here. You should've run with the rest of the city."

Carmelita's lip curled in disgust. Her raised arm remained steady and focused. "I'm giving you the count of three to surrender before I shoot."

"Try us, bitch."

"One."

The inspector prepared herself for a fight as the pack all began squaring their shoulders and pounding their fists in a pathetic attempt to intimidate her.

"Two."

The safety on her pistol was clicked back as she locked eyes with the raccoon. Saw him hesitate. Saw him calculate.

Saw him make a decision.

"Three!"

He rushed forward, ducking past the startled dogs as he booked for her. The dalmatian made a grab for him and met a direct hit from Carmelita's pistol instead. The goon went down as the other two caught up to what was happening, just in time for the kid to reach his would-be rescuer.

Instead of stopping, however, he grabbed her wrist and kept running, forcing her to stumble after him when he gunned for the nearest alley. The criminals roared behind them, far too close for comfort, so the inspector whipped her pistol around and shot the smallest dog who fell like a rock. His larger companion tripped right over him, hitting the concrete just as hard as the other two had. Satisfied, she turned back just as the raccoon veered off the street and out of sight with her in tow.

The alley held a dumpster and an opposite exit and not much else. Just as Carmelita took a step towards the other street, her rescue-e surprised her once again by scrambling up onto the dumpster and pulling her with him with his still-iron grip on her wrist.

"What are you -"

"Sh-sh-sh!" He hissed, pointing up at a low-hanging ledge on the building's roof above them. Her eyes lit in understanding.

With a single leap she sprung up and grabbed it, pulling herself up with a grunt of effort. When she turned over to offer her hand to the raccoon, she was startled to see him scaling a water pipe as if weightless. She hauled him up the rest of the way and he slammed into her with his tail barely clearing the wall in time. They flattened themselves against the rooftop just as the dogs came running into the alley barely a second later.

"Where the hell did they go?!" Growled a voice right below them. Carmelita stopped breathing.

"I don't know, I don't know!" Another voice, more panicked. "We gotta find 'em fast! If the boss finds out we lost –"

"Shut up! I know!" The leader yelled. "Go check the alleys down south. You, go east. I'll go west. They couldn't'a gone far."

Three sets of footsteps trotted off in different directions, and it was only then that Carmelita felt safe enough to exhale. She could feel the kid shaking with his arm pressed tightly against her collarbone. Neither of them dared move, just in case.

They waited ten seconds. Thirty. A minute. No one came back.

Finally, the inspector removed herself from the ground and pushed the raccoon off of her. He gave no resistance, scrambling up and away a few feet as if she might keep pushing him if he didn't, and watched while she wiped grime off her jacket with a grimace.

"That was close," she muttered, more to herself than to him, then met his eyes. "Thank you. That was quick thinking to hide up here."

He was staring at her. Studying her, she realized. Sizing her up.

"You're welcome," he said, very softly, just when she was starting to worry that he might jump her.

Now that they weren't fleeing for their lives, she got a better look at him. He wore a dark blue hoodie, as if unbothered by the afternoon Utah heat. Scuffed sneakers, black gloves, a red backpack, and what looked to be some kind of black cloth barely peeking out behind the front of the hoodie's collar filled out his ensemble of looking distinctly out of place.

"Are you looking for something?" He asked flatly, snapping her out of her analysis.

"No, no. Sorry." She looked away with an embarrassed blush, then realized he had been doing the exact same thing to her and wondered why she should feel bad for it.

Squaring her shoulders, she met his gaze again. The raccoon raised an eyebrow. Then he turned on his heel and began walking away.

"Bye."

Carmelita blinked.

"Wha - wait!" She lurched after him as her brain caught up to what was happening. "Wait, you can't just leave! Not with those criminals looking for us!"

"Watch me," he retorted without turning around. Upon reaching the edge of the building, he peered down at the street below in an obvious gauge for a jump.

"Would you just - listen to me for a second!" The inspector growled, panicked and aggravated. "I can't let you go on your own after all that! Not in a city full of gangsters! Do you even have a safe place to go?"

He paused. She took it as the opening it was and continued.

"Look, all of Mesa is deserted right now. Muggshot and his thugs have overrun it. Everyone else has fled, and there's no police station or shelter around where you can hide. Even if those three don't find you, someone else will."

Carmelita stopped talking only to take a breath. The kid still hadn't turned around, but his ears were swiveled towards her. He was listening.

"I have a safe house just outside of the city in the next town over," she said just a little softer, a little less forceful. "I could take you there for the night, you can get in touch with whoever you need to get out of the area, and then I'll let you go."

He finally turned from the ledge, expression dubious as he looked her up and down. "You'll…let me go."

"That was just a - look, you know what I meant, okay?" The inspector grimaced, then held out her hands in an unarmed invitation. "So? What do you say?"

The raccoon stared at her with that careful, studying scrutiny again. Carmelita resisted the urge to shift her weight under its potency. After a long, tense moment, he slumped just the tiniest bit and stepped away from the edge of the roof, and she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. There had never been anything in training about having a rescued hostage leaving their rescuer halfway through the actual rescue.

That was the first thing she was going to make Barkley add as soon as she got back from this crazy case.

Scanning the buildings around them, the fox tried to pinpoint which direction her car would be in relation to the street they were on. Eventually, she figured out a rough estimate and gestured for the raccoon to follow her towards another side of the building to drop down from. He did so almost as easily as she had despite his rather svelte form, and near soundlessly at that.

She wondered what his story was, that he as a civilian could do so effortlessly what took Interpol rookies months to learn.

They walked in silence at first, both alert for the slightest whiff of canine. As streets went by without hide nor hair of any of the goons on their tails, Carmelita allowed herself to relax just a little bit. Her hand still stayed on the holster of her shock pistol.

"So…" She finally said, hushed but curious. "Are you a – a local? Some kind of hostage?"

The kid eyed her, then glanced north where Muggshot's name glowed like a bright green warning beacon on a distant building. His mouth pressed into a thin line. "Something like that."

His voice was so, so quiet, with a hint of an accent she had noticed before but couldn't place.

"Well, I'm glad I was able to get you out of there. I'm Inspector Carmelita Fox. What's your name?"

There was a long pause.

"…Sly."

"Sly? That isn't really your name, is it?"

The raccoon shrugged and didn't look at her.

"Sly. Dios mío," she huffed, wondering if perhaps she'd misread the situation she'd stumbled upon. What kind of law-abiding citizen had a name like that? "Okay, Sly. Do - did you live close by? Maybe we can come back for more of your stuff later, when it's safer."

"I don't live in Mesa," came the unexpectedly curt reply. His gloved hand curled tight around one strap of his backpack. "And I already have all I need."

Carmelita frowned. "I was just asking."

"You were being nosy."

"I was not being - that's a good question to ask in a situation like this!"

"Uh huh. Was your next one going to be 'what's your exact address so I can write it down in my police report later'?"

A muscle twitched in her jaw. She hated that he had guessed right. "Forget it. I was just trying to help."

If she didn't know any better, she'd think he had rolled his eyes, but his face betrayed nothing at her sharp glance. The inspector blew a frustrated breath between clenched teeth and tried another peace offering. It was more for her benefit than his.

"It's just a few more blocks to my car and then we're out of here."

"You brought a cop car into the city?" Sly seemed both shocked and impressed by the stupidity.

"It's not a police cruiser," she said, irritation rising again. "I'm not dumb enough to plaster my status all over a city overrun by criminals without back-up."

"Could've fooled me, the way you were waving your badge and gun around earlier."

"It got you rescued, didn't it?"

The raccoon had nothing to say to that.

Carmelita sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Silence fell thick between them all the way back to her car.

Sly whistled at the sight of the red convertible with its hood up. "Damn. You're lucky no one's looted this side of Mesa yet, or that thing would be long gone."

"Give me a little credit, kid." The inspector unlocked the doors and swung into the driver's seat. "I staked out the movement here all morning. I know what I'm doing."

"Not a kid."

"What?" She glanced over at the raccoon, who climbed into the passenger seat with a sullen expression.

"I said I'm not a kid."

"Oh yeah? How old are you?" The skepticism dripped off every word. He didn't look a day over seventeen to her.

"Nineteen."

"Really," Carmelita said in disbelief. "Even if that's true, nineteen is still a kid."

"It's really not."

"Yes, it is!"

"Then what about you?" He challenged. "You look like you haven't even finished cop boot camp yet."

"It's called a police academy, I graduated from it with honors, and I'm twenty-two, for your information."

Sly snorted. "Congratulations, you can buy alcohol here in America. Is that your only requirement for being an adult?"

"Legally, it is. Why, what do you consider being one? Smartassery?"

The raccoon went quiet, staring at the desolate street ahead. A long moment passed without another word from either of them. Just when Carmelita thought that was the end of the conversation, she heard him speak again. It was so soft she almost didn't catch it.

"I'm not a kid. I haven't been a kid in a long time."

She glanced over. His face was blank and his eyes were distant. Something about it sent a shiver up the fox's spine, and she pursed her lips before starting the car.

It wasn't her business, anyway.

A/N: And thus, our two polarizing forces meet. The journey truly begins.

Heaven help both of them.