Intertwined Chapter 2: First Date, a zootopia fanfic

Intertwined

First Date

6:20 P.M. Friday, Mar. 29th 2013, on Federal Center transit line #2

Well you got your wish Skye. A lot of things could happen with this impulsive social...encounter of yours, but a boring evening won't be among them. We'll have to cooperate in managing how we appear together to avoid any public or professional...consequences. He's aware of that as well, although I'm still glad that I mentioned it.

It was entirely her own fault that a simple desire for some casual conversation with an almost randomly chosen co-worker had immediately escalated into an actual Friday night date. With someone outside of her species—and the genus Vulpes. That by itself wasn't too unusual; she knew that many others beyond those classifications found her attractive. Jack Savage, however, took it two giant steps further, past the family Canidae and to an entirely different order of Mammalia. Had her subconscious taken temporary control and decided that a lagomorph was sufficient reason to end her social hiatus?

At least the hare wasn't embarrassingly ludicrous as an escort for the evening. They were nearly the same height if one took ears into account, and he seemed to have kept himself in decent shape. One that was rather similarly proportioned to her own. Her awkward conversation with him had also shown there was a tolerant and considerate individual beneath his almost as white as hers fur. Now they only needed a plausible excuse for the curious to keep any scandal at bay—particularly from the FBI's Personnel Department.

"Miss fox?" came distinctly from up front.

The tram was stationary with its doors open; a few other mammals looked at her.

Her stop. She stepped off quickly while exhibiting a brief grimace of embarrassment for whichever regular commuter had reminded her. One step away, the doors thumped behind her, and it moved on.

Careful Skye, you almost wasted ten minutes having to jog back from the next stop! And maybe a few more putting yourself back in order after doing it in your work clothes. Now, what to choose for dinner?

Pondering, it took two futile attempts to open the mid-sized gate closest to her condo before she realized its key card would work better than the credit card she held. She was definitely distracted, and honestly rather intrigued about their pending date. Which they couldn't let appear as one in public.

Therefore, formal date-like activities were out. No fancy restaurant. No being seen together as a potential and controversial couple. Blending in with a mixed crowd might allow plausible deniability, and casual comfort might relax both of them. She realized she already knew the perfect place, hurried to her door and pulled out her phone as soon as she was inside.

"Mr. Savage? Ohh...right, Jack. I can be ready in fifteen minutes outside the walkway gate nearest the west end of my complex. I hope you like pizza. There's a good place called Panoctu's five or six minutes from… Oh...that's great then!" His enthusiastic interjection had banished any anxiety over her pedestrian choice of cuisine. "I can save us time by phoning in our orders—what would you like? I'll take care to get something inoffensive." Her eyes widened. "You're sure that's OK?" He was, she laughed and ended the connection, then called in both of their—at least in her case—regular orders.

That's a relief! Has a good sense of humor and sounds comfortably relaxed for now, and said he's almost ready to leave. Brush out my fur, brush my teeth, I'll be ready in plenty of time.

Skye waited just inside the gate, and wished she'd thought to ask what kind of car he drove. She also mildly regretted the cancellation of her last session with the groomers. Her tail had become more bottled out than tapered, since she'd decided to wait and let the imminent shedding of her winter coat take care of that. Be that as it may, she hadn't done any serious dating in a while, and tonight certainly wouldn't change that.

She opened the gate and stepped out after she noticed a midsize car in the right lane start to slow and edge towards the curb. It was a forest green and silver Vincent Victor, the more affordable sport cousin to the Viper. Both of those had been out of production for several years and the finish on Jack's bore that out. The hare leaned to push the door open for her.

"Thank you," she said while getting in quickly enough to make him jerk back his arm to avoid an unintentional touch—and potential apology based on his momentary nervous expression. The passenger's seatback only had a small tail relief inset; she had to pull hers forward between her legs in order to sit comfortably. She closed the door, and Jack used a brief burst of acceleration to merge back into traffic.

"Still runs quite well," she noted automatically. "Do your own tune-ups?" Maybe not the best conversation starter she thought, if it put him on the spot about his somewhat dated car.

"Actually, yes," he said with a curious glance at her. "This is old enough that I still can, although parts are getting more expensive." He paused, then added, "You like cars?"

That gave her a good exit ramp for this topic. "I do, although I can't justify having one now. I'd also have to pay extra for a carport space at my complex."

"Well miss Skye, I'm glad I had mine available," he said, directing a smile her way. "And yes, I did clean out the foot-wells before I came over!"

It was just a glance as I got in! He's observant; why'd he let me know that? Why not let me assume he always kept them clean...as if it mattered anyway.

"Only seeing where to put my feet," she said diffidently to put him at ease.

"I had to reassure you anyway miss Skye! I couldn't bear the responsibility of having negligently allowed the besmirching of such a magnificent tail as yours!" he said in an obsequious voice. "Although, if you manage to get tomato sauce or grease on it at the pizzeria, that's your problem fox," he finished flatly, eyes on the traffic.

"Just Skye is fine Jack." She smiled broadly at his compliment covering dead pan humor, and the now obvious previous set up comment—it seemed this evening could turn out to be more enjoyable than she'd hoped! Still, being at least somewhat larger, and a predator, she should maintain the initiative to allay any of his anxiety's over this evening out together. Starting with his car. She waited until he made an adroit lane change.

"Didn't know what you'd pick me up in tonight—this is fun, much better than some boringkit wagon would've been."

Gaah! Skye! Stop chewing on your foot and wait for the pizza! Why didn't I stop after 'fun'? Now this either makes you look as status conscious as your reputation, or that you'd assumed he'd turn out to be uninteresting. You don't even know his age, social history, or family ambitions. Why am I thinking about any of this? We're different species—none of this matters!

"I'm trying to get two or three more years out of it; I'm paying off as much as I can on a home loan first. Budgeting now supposedly pays off later," Jack told her as they came closer to dinner.

Like I'm doing with my condo. He admits financial responsibility instead of trying to impress. Signaling he really wants aninformal evening too? Let's hope he doesn't start talking about work.

"I'll drop you off in back Skye," he said, signaling for the turn in. "I might have to circulate a bit to find a parking spot, and it might be wise to go in separately."

"That might help some, Jack...but they already know I called in both orders. I'll go ahead and pay for them, it would look strange otherwise. That'll give you a few extra minutes to rationalize it...and us!"

"You're forsaking not only a golden opportunity to exploit me, but denying me my first chance to impress vulpine royalty!"

"That only applies when I'm in the Ice Cave on the fourth floor. I'm honestly tired of being...treated as a special commodity."

Jack silently nodded, and let her out near the back entrance. She thankfully drew minimal notice from those in the closer, big mammal end of the patio area as she reached for the second handle of the nested doors and pulled. A wave of commingled conversations and a sports broadcast on the big screens washed over her as she went in—there seemed to be only a few larger interior seats left unfilled. There were four or five other mid-sized customers by the cashiers, so she'd likely have to wait long enough that Jack would return—would he see the crowd and go find a place out in the patio to wait, or come and join her in line? She attracted more looks as she went and stood in it—her brilliant winter coat assured that.

Jack's a regular here, if he's in line with me they'll recognize his order—and that I called it in—maybe even if he isn't. We're outside acceptable bounds for association, we'll need to coordinate an excuse for...

"Yours just coming out Miss Skye," the ursine owner's daughter announced to their group by the register as she came over from the ovens, "Usual to go? You didn't say this time. Twenty-two sixty-five."

That's it! I'll take them outside and we'll go somewhere less public! Only need another minute!" She dove into her paw bag for some cash and opened her mouth as she stretched to paw it over."If you'd..."

"I'm back Miss Skye!" Jack said brightly from half a step behind her. She couldn't avoid the flinch or her caught out look back at the hare.

"Hiya Jack. Kinda wondered about this order, so you're?" The bear waved a plate-sized paw at the two of them. Her deep voice carried enough to turn several heads their way.

"I got a special promotion!" Jack said proudly. "Still celebrating!" He looked smugly up at her.

Spirits! He's totally blowing our cover! We'll pay for thi...Wait, I'm paying for this...it could look like...

"I lost a bet," she said, trying for a believable amount of downcast annoyance. "All mine tonight," she added, pointing her returning change to the tip jar. Thankfully, she heard a couple of snickers over her plight from those nearby.

"There's still spots out on the patio; I'll send out your party platters as soon as they're cut," the bear said with a slight smile—any more of that from her species tended towards frightening for many customers. "What drinks?" The cheeky bear called out their choices and gave her a small number stand for their table—as if their snow furred pair would ever blend in with the rest of the crowd. She turned and headed for the patio, thankful that the hare's overt acknowledgment that they were together had been an opening gambit, and she'd been able to counter with a book reply.

"Good prompt Jack! We should be well covered now," she whispered back as they went outside. She spotted a free table in a mostly empty outside corner of the patio—it was a bit breezy there, so she went to the upwind side to partially shield her short furred...companion. He went to his side...and stood there.

And waited, looking at her. Then he briefly glanced down at the simple seat. And waited.

You can't be serious rabbit! We're already attracting more attention!

So Jack was still playing his game. She got up again and went around the table as a young lynx server maneuvered across the filling patio with their drinks tray. She leaned in and reached for his seat.

"I said we're already well covered!" she softly hissed at his ear, then turned the plastic chair out for him—and still had to scooch it in a few inches as he sat imperiously and edged closer to the table.

"Wow, that must have been soome bet!" the lynx said as he set her water down. Jack snagged his orange soda right off the tray and took a self-satisfied sip. The likely teen feline turned and helped a taller deer behind him by passing down their pizzas. Those two left with her thanks, although several other sets of eyes on them didn't.

"Enjoy it while you can Double O Hare." She gently tapped herself. "Vulpine Royalty—get me home by midnight—no improprieties—you know the ground rules!"

"Now you're pulling rank? Remember, I just got a promotion, maybe I outrank you now!"

"Different departments Jack, good cover story though. What kind of promotion did you supposedly get?" she kept her voice down, as he'd started to do.

"A real one, actually Ms. Winter. Special Agent Savage at your service."

Last names; so it is legitimate. Two points off of your apparent cleverness, Savage—Two points back for honesty! And..three points for initiative, and keeping this fun! Although you just set yourself up.

"My! 'Special' agent already! So now they'll allow you outside to conduct background checks?"

"Still fieldwork! And it opens the door for more challenging assignments." Jack defended an advancement he'd obviously wanted.

"As if I'd willingly associate with anyone less than an unrestricted senior FBI agent!" she snarked again to see how he'd respond to a follow-up slight.

"And who asked out agent Double O Hare—license to question—less than two hours ago?" Jack replied instantly and firmly, with an accusatory finger answering his own query.

"A fictional character portrayed by a mere actor. That might be acceptable if you were a famous one." More points to agent hare; he has a decent vocabulary, and is competent at verbal sparring. Far too many are not.

"My unattainably aloof persona irresistibly drew you straight to me! You stood helpless before me."

"Only because I couldn't determine whether you were suffering a seizure or a stroke," she reminded him. Other than that, she had to admit that he'd acquitted himself better than she had during their initial encounter. She'd pushed past her embarrassment for that one; this one had become thoroughly enjoyable!

"Would you believe that I was assessing a unique situation to determine my optimum response?"

"No," she stated bluntly, and successfully avoided any visible display of mirth. Your move Jack—agent of self-control.

"Thought not. In that case, I suggest we transfer our digging away at each other to our pizzas, they wait before us!" Jack picked up a gloppy slice and got it to his plate just in time.

She agreed to the adjournment with a slight nod, and they finally began to eat. He non-verbally disagreed with her mannerly display of using cutlery to lift her wedge, by double-pawing up his plated slice and rather predatorily biting off a good chunk of the end. He then ruined his display of male assertiveness by immediately needing to gulp at his soda.

Their truce held through her fourth piece. Jack's soda was then drained with a deliberate and loud slurp—he pushed the empty glass over to her with clear intent. She hesitated, then picked it up and stood. She had to admit it was an effective ploy, as someone at an adjacent table plainly checked their amusement.

He knows this reinforces my public humiliation, and will bury any appearance of a personal connection between us. Effective—well done—and I can't allow it to go unanswered!

She took their glasses back inside, sought and asked for refills from their lynx server, and traded her cellphone for them.

"If you would. I need proof that I've met my obligations." She returned to their table with the feline in tow, and held a paw up to curb Jack as he saw them. She served Jack his soda for one picture, and a couple more were taken after she sat at the table with him. Her hare pseudo-date managed a discomfited smile for those two.

"So, we go down together if those get out," she was told after the lynx had returned her phone and left. "It would only be fair to balance our liabilities and maybe give me copies?" Jack continued hopefully. He took out his phone and held it up. "I have something for you as well—if I can be an allowed contact?"

"I'll permit that after we finish," she said and put her phone away. Jack did the same, and they both accepted they'd become the patio's focus of interest. Inevitable, she thought, but at least it's not as a couple! Occasional innocuous comments between them about local news items served to deflect the majority of that and let them end their meal in relative peace.

Jack's phone reappeared, and he waited for her contact info. His reply was a ticket confirmation with a QR code. Concordia University...Fern Recital Hall...

"Jack, this is wonderful!" she said a little too loudly. A couple of nearby heads turned.

"So your evening isn't a total loss?" he said blandly to try and cover her indiscretion.

"Looks like it. Can I go now?" she said with a careful hint of impatience for their audience.

"Sure, you've been a good sport about this, go ahead! Still want that picture though." Jack stood and started to bus their table, to offer her a seemly retreat.

She used the small gate out to the parking lot, and walked slowly to find and see if Jack's car was visible from the patio. It was, so she turned and went out front to find a less obvious spot for a pick up. She had to walk thirty meters or so down the sidewalk before she felt comfortably isolated from the activity around Panoctu's; that gave Jack enough time to exit and stop alongside right as she turned back to look for him. She was in, and they were moving in seconds. How professionally clandestine of us.

"I can confidently report that the first phase of Operation Deflection met all applicable criteria for success," Jack said in a stilted, bureaucratic voice as they steadied in their lane. "Agent Winter's bold risk-taking provided opportunities for timely and effective improvisation to secure our initial objective. Due to this, the operation's final phase should be concluded under a significantly reduced risk profile."

"It's a concert, so we all have to sit still and keep our muzzles shut," she conceded, "Chamber orchestra I assume?"

"Didn't have much choice did I? Classical music—for a classical beauty."

So, it's a date after all—there's the sappy line. Although it's probably more honestly given than any I've had in quite a while.

"You have a fairly uncommon name Miss Skye—particularly in how you pronounce it. Celtic Isles?"

"Hebridean, although not from the Isle of Skye itself," she said leaving her burr unsuppressed, pleased he'd noticed. "I immigrated five years ago."

"An irreplaceable loss for them, I'm sure," Jack said, unaware of the onerous memories he'd dredged up from her mind. His face briefly mirrored what must have crossed hers.

"I'm sorry if I...caused any upset Skye," he said cautiously and looked away quickly.

"It's no fault of yours Jack," she said to dispel his concern. "A past...recollection that...is easily roused." Unfortunately it was always harder to put those thoughts to rest once something triggered them. She stared straight ahead—as Jack was doing. He broke their silence after another minute of driving.

"This concert should—compose any concern of yours—tonight's program should be excellent for that. It's 'Afternoon of a Fawn' and 'Endless Prairie suite', I find both very relaxing." Jack turned slightly back as he spoke—trying to watch her without being obtrusive.

She gave him a small nod of agreement—he seemed to need that. "They are. I occasionally listen to 'Endless' in the dark before sleeping."

He's really making an effort tonight, and considering his words. Courteous, unpretentious...why be too concerned if I'm enjoying the evening? Simple politeness? Neither of us benefit if we talk about...or risk a repeat of this...date.

Yes, a date. She had to admit that their being sufficiently different species to even give those with inter proclivities pause—ignore that deviancy, and it was a pretty good one so far. And exactly what she'd wanted. They kept to their thoughts as they drove on-campus, and found available mid-sized parking the first level up of the arts center structure. Others had parked and were walking from their cars; Jack noticed and slowed for a spot behind most of them to her approval.

They seemed to have been one of the last to arrive; she was able to follow quickly enough to spot Jack being scanned into the hall ahead of her. The lobby wasn't crowded, seating seemed well in progress. She wouldn't be able to give Jack much of his desired temporal separation, all she could do was lag behind the last of the cervid and bovid heavy attendees. Fortunately, there were enough of them to preclude her politely taking an empty seat further away from her potentially adjacent smaller prey mammal.

Her delay required her to squirm past several pairs of legs to gain her place. At least it gave Jack plenty of time to warily watch her approach and edge to the far side of his seat. Their neighbors were a pair of older and somewhat larger brocket deer on her side, several marmots on his. Except for letting her pass, she'd drawn no particular notice from anyone. She tucked and sat on her tail again—audience seating never wasted space between rows to accommodate those with substantial ones. At least they had a good view of the student orchestra already in place; being among the smallest in tonight's audience had placed them at the front of the mid-size section. Due to the sonorous pitch and restful pacing of tonight's program, the actual small mammal section ahead was almost empty.

Their timing obviated their planning; lights dimmed overhead, the music department conductor was introduced, and the concert commenced. She kept her eyes closed well into the first movement to avoid distraction and let the reasonably well-performed music soothe her. Jack remained still beside her.

Enjoy the anonymity Skye. Nobody here knows who I am, or where the two of us work. Or that we're together...in some measure. They won't care unless we interact as familiars—all we have to do is listen to the music, part, thenskulk home after; all will return to normal, your lack of propriety finally acquitted!

She eventually cracked an eye open to see how Jack fared; he was gazing right at her and quickly broke contact. His eyes, and ears, went back to the orchestra, guilt stiffening his frame.

How long had he been watching me? The ears don't lie; I was the focus of his attention. Did he think I was ignoring him? Others might have only seen concern about the fox next to him, that cheesy line of his makes it the other kind of interest. Now I know how that look is on a rab...hare. First time from a straight herbivore. Spirits on high...what do I do with him? He's a decent person...we've had fun tonight...I actually think I'm going to have to let him down later.

Since Jack wasn't looking at her, to likely avoid getting burned again, she kept her head turned enough to watch him without being too obvious. Their unexpected encounter—unthinking on her part—meant they really knew almost nothing about each other. That hadn't prevented him from noticing her accent, being complimentary, or admitting that he'd thought her attractive! Prudence said to try and learn more about him before deciding how to resolve her situation. It also said to not do that at the agency—digging into another employees profile without explicit permission would be bad for...both of them actually, depending on how much access he had. Even subtle inquiries about each other with select staffers might raise uncomfortable questions. The only semi-safe way to resolve their mutual curiosity would have to occur directly between them—obviously right after tonight's concert.

The orchestra was bridging into the last movement—which sounded to her, as she watched Jack, as a long lament. She couldn't use their species disparity as an excuse; she hadn't misread his expression. A selfish need for temporary benign companionship would force her to hurt someone who didn't deserve it.

Why couldn't he have shown some natural apprehension around me? Why not have turned me down right at his desk? We've trapped each other. Take the coward's way out and try to delay the reckoning?

A better idea remained elusive through the end of the concert, a decent round of applause for some relieved student musicians, a scattered encore, then a general dispersal. She waited for the elderly deer to stand and move away, then whispered quickly to Jack, "I'll be streetside." He tipped an ear; she left him behind and walked slowly once she was out of the crowd near the hall. The nearby on-campus traffic circle seemed a good spot—there were some others walking towards or already standing around it.

Catching her ride went smoothly again; to others waiting for their own, she'd been picked up under a streetlight by a car, not by a shadowed, drop eared Jack inside.

"I hope that you enjoyed this concert," Jack said as soon as they were on their way. "I didn't know they'd use different student conductors for each of the subsequent movements. Made for some ah...interesting tempo changes."

"Perhaps because these were longer pieces?" she said, "I think the whole audience worried that skinny elk would drop her baton! She was rather theatrical."

"I think she worried too. Now where would you like to be dropped off when we get to your complex?" Jack asked. "Don't want to blow this...our cover right at the end!"

Is he signaling that he recognizes the evening's over...and maybe wants a clean break from it? That would be best for me, but maybe not for him. If I'm conflicted about how to end this, it must be worse for him—and it's entirely my fault. Was it too much to hope that this...buck hare was far enough from my species to become that non possessive, non competitive friend I've always failed to find? Or impatiently driven away. As I'm about to do again for both our sake's.

"My card works on the driveway gate, the one just past where you picked me up. I have an end unit—nobody should be around now." She took it out and passed it to a caught off-guard Jack, grateful she'd gained another minute to think about what to tell him. She needed it, they were there much too soon.

"I'm in the back corner; there's a couple of visitor spaces past the shelter on the left." They had parked seemingly seconds later—were looking at each other—she had to say something before he did.

"Jack? Mr. Savage...I had a grand evening out with you—one I selfishly needed and imposed on y…" He held up a finger, much closer to her muzzle than his.

"Please. I want to keep this memory just as it is. I don't want where we were, or what we saw, or the people around us, or any excuses to interfere with it. It's rare that any of us get one this pure to treasure. I pray it never fades. Thank you Miss Skye." The strain in his voice grew as he got closer to her name.

She opened the door and got out to avoid watching him try to maintain his composure. Whatever she'd done to fuel his idealistic expectations needed to be addressed—she had to say something. She held the door and leaned back in.

"Jack? I'll remember this fondly as well." She tried for a smile. "And if you ever feel the need to reinforce yours, you have my information—call me." Jack was staring through her again; she carefully closed his car door and went to her condo without looking back.

Peeking past the window blinds; it was several minutes before Jack backed out, turned, and left.

6:37 P.M. Friday, Mar. 29th 2013, at Jack Savage's home.

He accepted the call as the first repeat of the ringtone began—after he'd hastily dug the phone out of his pocket, and noted the 'restricted' call identifier on its display. "Yes?" he asked guardedly.

"Mr. Savage?" Skye asked, sounding almost as good as she had in person earlier.

"It's Jack, miss, we're not at work now."

"Ohh...right, Jack. I can be ready in fifteen minutes outside the walkway gate nearest the west end of my complex. I hope you like pizza. There's a good place called Panoctu's five or six minutes from…"

"I know it! That'll be perfect!" His first big worry melted away. It would be much easier to act as casual acquaintances among the bustle there, rather than being on display in a more structured restaurant.

"Oh...that's great then! I can save us time by phoning in our orders—what would you like? I'll take care to get something inoffensive."

"Get whatever you like miss Skye; since you know the place."

"You're sure that's OK?" she said carefully.

"Absolutely. I'll make sure they properly cooked my veggies, so that I'm not devouring them alive right in front of you."

"I'll get them started," Skye said after she contained her fox gekkering. "Bye for now."

I definitely scored a few points with the vixen there—now do I stick with my Fed suit, or go with something less businesslike to blend in more at the pizza pit? Will she do that? How would it look if I did and she didn't? Better stay the way I am...saves time, supports the co worker excuse if we go with that, since we might appear more...casually familiar with each other if we dressed down.

He hurried back to his garage; once he picked up his...sham date and got to Panoctu's, their orders should be coming out. Only now did he realize his lack of any pre-date car prep. A quick squirt and wipe of the windshield would have to do; he didn't want to waste time. Except past laziness meant that her side was in more need of attention than his; so another half-minute gone to correct it. That task revealed the dust on the top of the dash inside; another rub and brush off there. Now the seats needed...he watched the flakes and motes drift down to the fallow fields of the floorboards...Oh Spirits!

Great, now I'm even more nervous, overheated, and rushed. At least the traffic is lighter in this direction. Stop quivering, arms! I would have wasted a couple more minutes getting the shop vac! Why did I even bother! Am I going to keep trying to impress this vixen? Why? Because I got her to laugh? She told you she only wanted someone to talk to—and let it get out of paw. She'll recognize that and try to end this soon enough—I hope she's at least gracious about it.

He finally was able to turn left onto the boulevard in front of her development. A couple more red lights like this one, and his frustration would have boiled over. He slowed to look for his incautious co worker, and spotted her coming through the perimeter gate ahead. Ahhh! Thank the spirits, I'm not late!

She noticed him edging over and stepped to the curb; he stopped right in front of her and stretched to push open her door. Still too much traffic to easily allow a gentlemammal's exit to go around and open it for her. Which anyway, might raise questions for her if the neighbors saw. Skye was still dressed as she had been at work, so another concern evaporated.

"Thank you," Skye said, slipping in as soon as she had room. She glanced down and sat as soon as his arm was out of her way, guided her tail up between her legs with one paw and closed the door with the other. That pristine plume filled much of the volume in front of her.

Oh well, never needed to accommodate a tail like that in here before! Glad I swept things out, she actually looked and is still holding it clear of the floor—possible reminders she expects that safe, paws to yourself evening.

"Still runs quite well," Skye said conversationally right after he'd accelerated back into traffic. "Do your own tune-ups?"

"Actually, yes," he said, sparing her a glance. "This is old enough that I still can, although parts are getting more expensive...you like cars?"

"I do, although I can't justify having one now. I'd also have to pay extra for a carport space at my complex."

"Well miss Skye, I'm glad I had mine available," he said, unable to avoid an appreciative look at the agency's ultra-vixen seated—adjacent. He just hoped traffic would continue to obviate any need for him to shift into fourth. That would put his paw dangerously close to Skye's hip.

"And yes, I did clean out the foot-wells before I came over!" he said to illustrate his concern over her remaining unsullied—and also unfortunately highlight his lack of regular upkeep.

"Only seeing where to put my feet," she said hesitantly.

Good! Ican use that to cover my admitted lack of fastidiousness! Now try to keep it cheery.

"I had to reassure you anyway miss Skye! I couldn't bear the responsibility of having negligently allowed the besmirching of such a magnificent tail as yours!" he said like a fawning fanboy. Now to spike it. "Although, if you manage to get tomato sauce or grease on it at the pizzeria, that's your problem fox."

"Just Skye is fine Jack," she said in a voice that strained his propriety.

They both remained silent for a minute—while subtle motions of her tail, pulled up over the dash where it nearly brushed the windscreen, teased his peripheral vision. It really was quite extraordinary, he felt that only skunks and some squirrels possessed proportionate rivals to it. Except they weren't pulling a pure white contrail behind them wherever they went. At least he now had a couple of hours to cautiously admire it, rather than catch rare glimpses at work.

"Didn't know what you'd pick me up in tonight—this is fun, much better than some boring kit wagon would've been," Skye said after he exploited a gap in traffic.

Okay, at least she approves of my car. Or is trying to be polite.

"I'm trying to get two or three more years out of it; I'm paying off as much as I can on a home loan first. Budgeting now supposedly pays off later." He started looking for Panoctu's modest sign; their community reputation eased its enticement duties. "I'll drop you off in back Skye, I might have to circulate a bit to find a spot, and it might be wise to go in separately."

"You're forsaking not only a golden opportunity to exploit me, but denying me my first chance to impress vulpine royalty!"

"That only applies when I'm in the Ice Cave on the fourth floor," Skye said in weary resignation. "I'm honestly tired of being...treated as a special commodity."

He nodded and let her out by the rear doors. He'd have to cool it with all but the mildest compliments from now on, and not place her back on a pedestal she'd obviously tired of. Her complaint hinted at a possibly intriguing past life—one not to be intruded on right now.

It was an issue parking; two of the spots for his size of car were covered by a larger one, another had close to a dozen much smaller ones scattered across it. Fortunately, a pair of coyotes left and he was in position to snag their spot. If he'd been somewhat larger, he would have taken the time to walk over and inconveniently rearrange the cluster of misparked tiny cars. He headed for the doors, fantasizing that if his car had been a little bigger, he could have parked it over the tight cluster he'd wanted to create.

Unfortunately, that's a good way to find you have a gnawed brake line when you try to leave. And pettiness isn't a good look when you've got a hot date along. As if that matters.

He had to admit, it actually did. This was a unique experience however it worked out, and he wanted a positive memory of it. That wouldn't happen unless he made sure that Skye also had one. He went inside where a young squirrel with filled arms carefully padded towards him.

"Trying to set a record, Mitsi?" He gave way until she and her plate arrangement were safely on the steps up to the small mammal mezzanine. Her burden only allowed a small tail flick of acknowledgment. Ahead, Skye was already up at the cashier's.

"Yours just coming out Miss Skye," Greta said, "Usual to go? You didn't say this time. Twenty-two sixty-five."

He stepped quietly up behind her as Skye immediately paid with cash—that, and her being greeted by name proved the vixen was a regular customer. "If you'd…" she started to say.

"I'm back Miss Skye!" he said happily—echoing Greta—to startle the vixen and spike her attempt at a public exposure limiting take out ploy—which seemed to be her regular habit since he hadn't run across her in here before. Where did she expect they'd go to eat? In his car?

"Hiya Jack. Kinda wondered about this order, so you're?" Greta boomed and waved a paw at them. With everybody now looking, she might have just as well used both of hers to push them together.

"I got a special promotion!" Jack said clearly, hoping that Skye could utilize that. "Still celebrating!"

"I lost a bet...all mine tonight," she effectively groused, grabbed the offered table number, and led the way to the patio. Passing through the door she whispered back to him, "Good prompt Jack! We should be well covered now."

We should, he agreed, although a little reinforcement for the audience beyond the register would be prudent. He'd overheard Greta's additional comment when she'd directed a server to follow with their order, and wanted to take advantage of it.

Skye selected as isolated a table as she could over in the corner, and gracefully occupied the far seat; he stood by his and needed a pointed look to convey his desire. She did ask him out after all; it was only polite.

"I said we're already well covered!" she stress whispered close in his ear as he settled in his held seat without looking at her. As the lynx teen reached past him with Skye's glass; he used his peripheral vision to pluck his soda off the feline's tray without turning his head. Agent Savage coolly sipped his curacao.

"Wow, that must have been soome bet!" Pizzas appeared and their servers left after thanks from Skye and a nod from him.

"Enjoy it while you can Double O Hare," Skye said; her muzzle aimed back between his eyes. "Vulpine Royalty—get me home by midnight—no improprieties—you know the ground rules!" A slight smile remained on the vixen; so this was sparring, not an admonishment. At least she was apparently enjoying this so far.

"Now you're pulling rank? Remember, I just got a promotion, maybe I outrank you now!"

"Different departments Jack," Skye tried to say without inflection; her slight accent prevented that. "Good cover story though. What kind of promotion did you supposedly get?"

Was that her accent again...or some sarcasm at the end?

"A real one, actually Ms. Winter. Special Agent Savage at your service." Skye didn't react for a few seconds, then her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Uh oh. Predatory fox.

"My! 'Special' agent already! So now they'll allow you outside to conduct background checks?"

"Still fieldwork! And it opens the door for more challenging assignments." he said defensively.

"As if I'd willingly associate with anyone less than an unrestricted senior FBI agent!" Skye stated disdainfully.

"And who asked out agent Double O Hare—license to question—less than two hours ago?" he replied instantly—realizing there wouldn't be a better opportunity to use his high-card comeback.

"A fictional character portrayed by a mere actor. That might be acceptable if you were a famous one," she countered.

"My unattainably aloof persona irresistibly drew you straight to me! You stood helpless before me."

"Only because I couldn't determine whether you were suffering a seizure or a stroke," Skye said rapidly enough that it must have—like his just played—been a reply kept in reserve.

"Would you believe that I was assessing a unique situation to determine my optimum response?"

"No." Skye rightfully flattened his humorous attempt at an excuse.

"Thought not. In that case, may I suggest we transfer our digging away at each other to our pizzas; they wait before us!" He nudged his plate closer, pulled up a somewhat melted back together slice, and tried to maneuver most of its cheesy strings onto it. Skye watched, then used her table knife to cleanly separate her own piece, then slid the blade underneath to support it.

It's a pizza joint miss sophisticate! You chose it; live with it. He picked up his still limp wedge with both paws and emphatically bit off the end—and needed a quick slug of soda to quench it.

Real smooth Savage. You're draining your cool as fast as your glass. Need to regain the upper paw—she's still a couple of put-downs ahead! Ohh, that'll do!

He waited a few minutes before finishing his soda with an overt suck of the last bit of liquid. He casually shoved his glass over to Skye without any eye contact—although he would have liked to have watched her expression. After only a few seconds of uncertainty she took it inside along with hers.

She sees the utility of my rudeness—although I'd better not escalate this any further. Bantering and mutual condescension has been fun—for her as well—but I don't want to find her limits.

He finished off his present slice and started another, having fallen behind the vixen's rate of consumption. Skye returned a few minutes later with their refilled drinks—followed by the young lynx server with a cellphone in paw. Skye forestalled his objection with a paw. The lynx took a few pictures of Skye setting their drinks, then taking her place at their table. Unconcerned, she took back her cell—thus was responsible for the risky escalation.

"So, we go down together if those get out." He absolutely had to have one of those! "It would only be fair to balance our liabilities and maybe give me copies?" he suggested reasonably—and took out his own phone as a further prompt for the vixen opposite him. "I have something for you as well—if I can be an allowed contact?"

"I'll permit that after we finish," Skye said frustratingly as she tucked her phone away. She returned her attention to the cooling pizza, and took care not to talk with her muzzle full.

She's considerate, cultured, verbally adept, we cooperate well, and she's the most interesting dating partner I've met in a long time. Don't get carried away Savage—this is a one-off accidental social occurrence—with a supermodel class snow-furred vixen...no, a fox. She's a fox, a predator, and you are a hare...totally incompatible. But she's so much fun to talk to...and spar with...not at all like her reputation!

Skye enforced the delay—allowing only occasional idle chit-chat until they were done. He fished out his cell as soon as she'd taken her last bite, waited for her enabling text, then forwarded her reservation receipt—suddenly realizing that he now had her personal phone number! Whether or not he would ever have the guts to use it...

"Jack, this is wonderful!" she said with sufficient surprise to draw more notice to them.

"So your evening isn't a total loss?" he said flatly as a reminder, and to restore her cloak of humiliation.

"Looks like it. Can I go now?" Skye helped him pull it back around, and readied her escape.

"Sure, you've been a good sport about this, go ahead! Still want that picture though." He stacked their plates, glasses, and leavings on the pizza sheets to take back to the kitchen—as many regulars here often did—while Skye made a quiet, tail low, but watched exit.

He couldn't avoid wearing a self-satisfied smile for the other mammals, and a joyful one for himself as he dropped off the platters and hurried out to his car. He was eager to resume conversing with her; having mulled over possible things to say while they'd been dining. He spotted her a ways down the sidewalk as he came to the street—she turned as he pulled to a stop alongside. Skye swiftly entered, arranged herself, and closed the door in an unbroken series of fluid motions. He promptly responded with a more aggressive burst of acceleration to make their get-away. She turned her head and smiled—all he needed.

"I can confidently report that the first phase of Operation Deflection met all applicable criteria for success," he said as pompously as possible. "Agent Winter's bold risk-taking provided opportunities for timely and effective improvisation to secure our initial objective. Due to this, the operation's final phase should be concluded under a significantly reduced risk profile."

"It's a concert, so we all have to sit still and keep our muzzles shut. Chamber orchestra I assume?"

"Didn't have much choice did I? Classical music—for a classical beauty." He hesitated an interminable second or two before her smile returned and he could glance back at the traffic.

"You have a fairly uncommon name Miss Skye—particularly in how you pronounce it. Celtic Isles?"

"Hebridean, although not from the Isle of Skye itself. I immigrated five years ago." she said sweetly, her accent fully apparent.

"Oh Spirits! She's even hotter than I'd realized back at work! Maybe that's why she's down here; they made her move south to slow polar melting. Better save that one—it'd be too over the top to use a line like that right now...I'm really in trouble...say something, she's waiting!

"An irreplaceable loss for them, I'm sure," he said lightly, which caused her smile to abruptly vanish.

"I'm sorry if I...caused any upset Skye." he said—eyes rapidly fixed back on the road—that seemed safest until he knew more about her reaction.

"It's no fault of yours Jack," she said with a hint of sadness. "A past...recollection that...is easily roused."

Searching for the correct, and rather benign words...to clue me in that something buried in her past is off-limits. Which makes it likely that she had reason to emigrate from there. Now I need to get us past this without showing any tendency to pry into her affairs. What to say...university's coming up...Ah!

"This concert should—compose any concern of yours—tonight's program should be excellent for that." He tried for a conversational tone; a slight turn of her head and cant of ear showed she was listening. "It's 'Afternoon of a Fawn' and 'Endless Prairie suite', I find both very relaxing." He turned back towards her as he slowed for the red light ahead. Skye met his gaze with a small nod of approval.

"They are," she said softly, "I occasionally listen to 'Endless' in the dark before sleeping."

Skye seemed to lapse back into thought, so he stayed silent as the light changed, they turned into the campus, and made their way to the parking structure. There was enough activity on the second level to cause both of them to look about—it would require caution.

"Skye? When I stop, crack your door; I'll get out, lock the car and go on ahead. Wait a minute, then follow when it's clear—we have adjacent seats near the middle—I'll go sit first so I look alone. Hang out in the lobby, then come in before the doors close. I'll react nervously when you take your seat—hopefully they'll ignore us afterwards, or have some sympathy for the poor bunny!" He got a slight smile and nod of agreement from his vixen date. He got out as soon as other's attention was elsewhere, and walked rapidly towards the stairs by the corner to draw any notice away from the fox still in his car.

Outside, he checked the time to find only a few minutes left, hurried past a few larger mammals, and once at the hall, found the crowd emptying into the auditorium. He sought and took his seat without delay, hoping that Skye would realize they'd cut it close and make it on time. He tried to appear relaxed and not look back for her. There were some large marmots to his left, and a pair of quite small deer had followed him in and taken the seats on the other side of Skye's. They weren't much larger than his imminent vixen, and could be Amazonian, he recalled that there were several small cervid species from there. Some rabbits were a couple of rows back on his side—but those seated adjacent to them shouldn't mind a smaller than average fox if he didn't overplay his reaction.

Skye made it a couple of minutes later; he watched her carefully as she stepped into their row, then edged away in his seat as she sat and arranged her tail. It was very difficult to not openly appreciate that. Thankfully the concert began before any speculation about them could grow. Skye canted her ears and closed her eyes to immerse herself in the music, and to possibly appear innocuous. Her chosen demeanor thankfully invited his admiration.

Rare and distant glimpses of her at work, then closer proximity tonight while he was driving or they were eating with others nearby—he was now gifted with a fairly private, leisurely, close range opportunity to study his near-accidental vixen companion.

No. Skye's my date for the evening—and I'm hers—she asked me out on it! I'm having a non-coerced date with a spy movie femme-fatal class ultravixen—I want to remember this forever, but I still need copies of her pictures!

Unfortunately, Skye was fun and engaging as well as supernaturally beautiful—while he was not only short, but a distinctly non-vulpine hare. He wondered how many others cursed as he was had been unconsciously induced by her into wishing that they were a fox.

Or consciously. Anyone as hot as Skye has to be aware of her effect on others! But any others? Why am I reacting like this? I had little to do with her until earlier today. At most, I heard comments and recognized that canids considered her quite attractive. As do some of the rest of us. I'm good looking for a hare, to hares and rabbits...could Skye ever see me like that? What makes me see her that way?

The music was a soothing background; his attention fixed on the white vixen in the seat to his right. Nearly in profile, her muzzle was shorter than typical foxes, tapered with subtle but mathematically precise curves as was the slight smile within. Her attentive ears were in proportion to it, all was in balance. She was one of those rare individuals that remained flawlessly beautiful at point blank range, in addition to the view from a socially safer distance.

In the dimmed overhead lighting, the slit of her now partially opened eye appeared rather dark.

Oh Spirits hide me! He managed to turn away before he ground to a halt. Judged and found wanting.

So close. He'd almost made it to the end of their date before revealing that he was just another...perv. He sat barely able to breathe until the end of the concert—ears thankfully nervously erect—waiting for her ever more delayed reaction. The lights came up and he was able to join in the applause enough to appear normal. Skye waited after, silent, not looking, until their row cleared and she leaned forward to stand.

"I'll be streetside." Skye whispered as she turned to leave.

No discernible upset, and she still wants me to take her home—so maybe not a total disaster. Did she expect to be admired? Or will I get it when I drop her off?

He followed behind, noted the direction Skye took, and let his ears droop once he got to the parking structure. The line of vehicles leaving was slow; he had time to realize that he'd have to start a conversation soon, a silent drive back would be unbearable. Skye was very noticeable under a streetlight and got in without delay.

"I hope that you enjoyed this concert, I didn't know they'd use different student conductors for each of the subsequent movements." he said as evenly as he could manage. "Made for some ah...interesting tempo changes."

"Perhaps because these were longer pieces?" Skye said, "I think the whole audience worried that skinny elk would drop her baton! She was rather theatrical."

"I think she worried too," he said, heartened by her relaxed response. "Now where would you like to be dropped off when we get to your complex? Don't want to blow this...our cover right at the end!"

Real smooth Savage, now she's thinking. Will it be diplomatic...or devastating. She started all this—you liked her personality—now you'll see her true character.

"My card works on the driveway gate, the one just past where you picked me up. I have an end unit—nobody should be around now." Skye passed him an unadorned but for a number in the corner card.

She's willing to be dropped off at her door? Let me see where her place is? Inv… Don't overthink that! We're several minutes away yet. She might just feel it's more private than us being seen on the street!

It took a couple of those minutes to realize that he didn't have to deal with an annoyed vixen—Skye appeared to be deep in thought again. She didn't come up until the gate slid open in front of them.

"I'm in the back corner; there's a couple of visitor spaces past the shelter on the left."

He parked and they both turned to look at each other—he waited for sentencing.

"Jack? Mr. Savage...I had a grand evening out with you—one I selfishly needed and imposed on y…"

He cut her off with a raised finger—he didn't need an apology from her, not after his earlier rudeness.

"Please. I want to keep this memory just as it is. I don't want where we were, or what we saw, or the people around us, or any excuses to interfere with it. It's rare that any of us get one this pure to treasure. I pray it never fades. Thank you Miss Skye." His voice threatened to break near the end, then she exited without a word.

Spirits be merciful you maudlin idiot. Now you're a laughingstock to her! Should a let her have her say.

"Jack? I'll remember this fondly as well. And if you ever feel the need to reinforce yours, you have my information—call me." She'd leaned back in, he froze, the door closed, and Skye Winter was gone.

Time finally revealed that he could contact her—and had her permission.