Taelia was late returning to the apartment, owing to a prolonged band practice. She returned to find that, as an act of kindness, Judy had taken it on herself to fix dinner for both of them and shower early so the vixen could have a full supply of hot water. The small gestures did not go unappreciated, especially as supper proved to be ready just as Taelia finished her own wash.

"I would have been fine ordering takeout; not that I'm complaining," the vixen admitted as she dished up her share.

Judy shrugged. "Eh, I had a pretty easy day, so why not?"

They made small talk as they ate; band practice this, welfare check that, funny story about someone thinking their neighbor had died when it was just a lot of really bad laundry, yadda yadda yadda.

"Nick stopped by to watch us a bit," Taelia added with a note of satisfaction.

Judy pricked up her ears. Nick hadn't mentioned this, which made her wonder if there had been some particular reason for his making the visit. "If he proposed without me there, I'm going to have to shave his tail," she remarked.

Taelia laughed. "He didn't. Just said he likes to watch me work."

The bunny nodded, accepting that answer. The vulpines made a cute couple, and Taelia had even admitted that she was wondering when Nick might get around to popping the question. No plans of rushing it, though; she wanted it to be Nick's call. Judy couldn't help thinking that she probably wouldn't be nearly as patient if she got to their level of seriousness.

Her glance toward her phone, over on the table, did not go unnoticed. "What about you?" Taelia asked probingly. "Any word on this Shamus guy?"

Judy only hesitated briefly before deciding to just come out and say it. "As a matter of fact, I'm seeing him Wednesday."

"I knew it," Taelia smirked triumphantly. "I knew there was something brewing, non or no non."

Rolling her eyes, Judy decided to concede that whatever prior assertions there might have been that she and Shamus just "hung out for old times' sake' were now thoroughly defunct. "Because I'm too sweet and innocent not to fall for a guy," she asked ironically, "or because I'm just the kind of doe guys fall for?"

Taelia did her best not to snort her supper. "Would you mind not doing that when I'm swallowing?" she laughed once she got control of herself. Then she shrugged. "And call it intuition."

"I think I'll call it watching too many rom coms," Judy retorted with a smirk.

"Maybe," Taelia admitted with a shrug, "but I still called it. So, you gonna tell me about this Prince Charming?"

Now it was Judy's turn not to laugh. "Well, I wouldn't call him that," she confessed, thinking a moment. "He's more of a Brave Little Tailor type."

"Hmm, but he's got something you like, obviously."

If Judy were a student of psychology, she might have known that many mammals were inclined to pick preferences largely on subconscious impulse, and only afterward to break down what appealed to them about their chosen favorite. She had, in fact, seen this used once in a sleight of hand trick to get someone arguing why the model he had picked out as less attractive was more attractive than the other. This was, probably, why Judy needed a moment to think about what she saw in Shamus as boyfriend material. Part of it was simply the fact that she wanted more variety in her life than work, work, work, much as she loved her job, but of course there was more to it than that.

"He's got guts," she said after a moment's reflection. "When we were in Tundra Town, some hare tried to pick a fight with him; lifted him right in the air. Quick as anything, he just boxed the guy in both ears." She smacked her paws together for emphasis as if she were swatting a mosquito.

Taelia raised an eyebrow. "Funny. Normally you'd frown on someone getting into fights."

Judy shrugged this off. "It was self-defense. I respect that." She might have mentioned the coordination of his doing that and kicking the guy solidly down below all in one move – and while both he and the hair were being upended in midair, no less – but decided that part might be best not discussed over supper.

"So, he can handle himself in a tight spot," Taelia mused over a mouthful of salmon. "I'm surprised you're not thinking about recruiting him as a cop."

That same thought had occurred to Judy, though she had to shoot it down. "Would be nice," she agreed, "but he's already got a good job. Besides, he's got a bad leg; old accident. I don't think he'd be able to keep up on long stretches." This last she almost regretted saying, seeing as Shamus was confidential about his medical and psychological history. Honestly, in Judy's opinion those only accented what he managed to accomplish. She privately questioned how well she or a lot of other mammals she knew would have managed a life like his, with or without help.

Taelia accepted Judy's explanation, finishing another bite before she asked her next question. "So, is he good-looking?"

"I think so," she answered after a much shorter bit of consideration. Objectively speaking, she had to admit Shamus wasn't a heartthrob at first glance. At the same time, there was something about him that did stick in one's mind. She guessed it was the patches in his fur. Generally speaking she wouldn't have listed piebald as one of her turn-ons, but somehow he managed to pull it off; a good thing, since he was stuck with it anyway. It seemed to elevate his face somehow; make his expressions more emphatic.

She almost flushed at the memory of how she knew that, but managed to dampen it down. Although she was eager not to repeat the Sauna Incident any time soon, she had managed to recover from the embarrassment of it by considering that neither of them had really seen any more than they might at a public pool or beach. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, it would have even been kind of fun. Besides, it really hadn't been anyone's fault in particular - and it hadn't been a half-bad view, either.

After a brief consideration of the 'I think so,' Taelia probed further. "So, handsome but not 'magazine cover' handsome."

Judy scoffed a little. "Oh, magazine guys are so overrated."

"Amen to that," Taelia agreed, raising her glass of water in a sign of her agreement. "Well, I hope you two have a good time."


That Wednesday at 3:25, Judy arrived at the place Shamus had texted her the night before; a little coffee and pastry shop in Savannah Central called the Grounds Hog. Upon opening the door she was greeted by an old-school brass bell jingling overhead, easy chatter, and the smell of fresh coffee and pastries coupled with cool, stony air. The walls were of brown stone, or a darn good facsimile of it, but avoided a cave-like feeling thanks to ample lighting and large front windows. On these walls hung a modest collection of country artwork – including a portrait of the founder, Ezekiel Grounds – and an old-fashioned mechanical clock behind the counter. Even the fixtures were of older design, though in good repair, so that all in all it almost felt like she had stepped through a portal back to Bunny Burrow.

"Over here!" came Shamus' voice from a window right by said window. He raised a cup of coffee in each paw, showing that he had already ordered.

Judy was a little taken aback. "Usually I'm ahead of the game," she remarked, coming to join him.

"I remember," he answered with a smile, handing her one of the cups. "Berry and pumpkin, right?"

It took her a moment to realize that this had indeed been her drink of choice the last time they got together. In truth, she'd actually been in the mood for something else, but the thoughtfulness was sweet. "Thanks," she said, taking a sip.

He must have caught something in her demeanor, though, for in hardly any time he tilted his head. "Problem?" he asked.

She looked up from her coffee. "No. Well, kind of," she confessed. "I was actually more in the mood for carrot."

"Oh." He tried to think back on their shared history; on what carrots might mean besides her family farm. Something in the back of his mind said, 'comfort food,' and he decided to go with it. "Bad day at work?"

The near-telepathic accuracy took her by surprise. Either he knew her better than she'd realized in spite of the years, or she was seriously losing her pawker face. "Yeah, kind of. I shouldn't talk about it."

If there was one thing Shamus knew, it was the value of sharing bad experiences. "Anything you can tell without breaking rules?" he coaxed.

She thought about it. "Well, Nick and I had a perp busted; red-pawed and everything. It should have been an open-and-shut case, but then his lawyer showed and the next thing we knew he was out on some technicality even Nick wasn't expecting. The whole thing left us looking like rookies, and the chief wasn't happy about it."

"Ouch." Shamus knew Judy was no slouch when it came to knowing the system – and exploiting it if necessary – and from what she'd told him of Nick he'd gathered that he was a shrewd dealer even by the most stereotypical views of foxes. It didn't take an old friend to guess how much that must have rankled Judy. "So, back to square one?"

She sighed. "That's getting into stuff I can't talk about, but yeah, pretty much." She eyed her mug listlessly, then took a long sip.

He winced inside. Any effort Judy might have made to mask her chagrin was gone now. It reminded him of how he'd probably looked watching athletic competitions after his accident.

Fishing in his mind for an appropriate response, he reached out and clasped her left paw where it lay on the table. She blinked in surprise and looked up to meet his gaze.

"Let me tell you something a friend once told me," he said, patting her paw. "Succeeding isn't your job. Doing what's right is."

She huffed a little. "Well, there's not much point if I don't succeed," she pointed out.

He let her pull her paw loose, but kept his gaze on her. "No, listen. You can't always control what happens to you. All you can do is do the best you can and hope it goes right. If it goes right, great. If not, at least you have a clear conscience and a learning experience."

Judy thought that over, her lips curving into a smile as she digested it. "That's really deep; you know that?"

He shrugged. "I got it from a... well, a friend," he said hesitantly. Seeing the way her expression narrowed at his reluctance, he added, "A counselor, at a place I was staying after the... you know."

She got the message, her eyes softening and her gaze dropping as it clicked into place. "You don't have to tell me, if you'd rather not," she offered as a way out.

He shrugged, folding his paws. "I'd rather do that later" he agreed, "but it's not all bad, considering it got me here."

She smiled again at that, her brief silence inspiring him to change the subject.

"Anyway," he added, "if I know you, you'll probably have whoever it is back in the station in a week wishing he'd just owned up in the first place, and that lawyer of his won't have a leg to stand on."

The delivery was so earnest Judy had to smile. Nick had said pretty much the same thing trying to cheer her up. At the time it hadn't really taken root, maybe because Nick was in a similar position of embarrassment or maybe because her own wound was still just a little too fresh. Even so, if there was one thing rabbits prided themselves on it was being able to bounce back.

Now it was her turn to reach for his paw, albeit unwittingly. "Thanks," she said.

He smiled back. "You're welcome."

The silence hung long enough for each to wonder if the other was gearing up for a kiss. When neither did, it got awkward.

"Well," Judy said, fishing around for a change of topic, "I've hogged the conversation long enough."

An indignant oink sounded from somewhere nearby.

"No offense!" she amended, raising her voice just enough to make it obvious. Then, re-centering on Shamus, she spread her paws out a few inches. "Did you want to talk about anything specific?"

The turnabout caught him a little off-guard, even though the truth was he had come with something of an agenda. "Um, yeah," he affirmed, trying to remember what he had in mind. He knew he'd had a smooth – or at least fairly smooth – lead-in planned to discuss just what each of them wanted in the relationship, but whatever that train of thought had been it was now derailed. Wisely or not, he decided to just run with it.

"I wanted to talk about what we're looking for in a relationship."

She blinked a little, surprised at the directness of the remark. "Like, what we find attractive, how we want it to go…?" she ventured, probing for clarity.

"Mostly the latter," he replied. "I have a few thoughts about it, but ladies first."

A smirk flashed across her face. The remark was a little cliché, perhaps, but Shamus had always been somewhat old-fashioned even when he managed, in the same beat, to put a fresh spin on it. It was confusing, but also interesting.

As for the question itself, she took a minute to think it over. "Well, I could go for something like that day in Tundra Town, if it wasn't so chaotic," she reasoned.

He nodded, raising his mug in a mock toast. "Hear, hear," he agreed.

She thought a moment longer, then shrugged. "Honestly, I just want to have a good time. What did you have in mind?"

Shamus swallowed a little. "To be honest, I'm thinking in the long-term."

'Long-term.' Now that was a weighty phrase. "You mean…?"

This was it. No way out but forward. "I want to marry – eventually."

She stared at him. "Do I strike you as the marrying type?" she asked, not sure how she felt beyond incredulous.

Now on the defensive, he fought not to freeze up. 'Talk, stupid!' he chided himself. 'Use your words!'

"You strike me as my type," he managed.

Judging by the softening of her expression, that had at least been enough to lower her guard some. He hustled to follow up. "I mean, every time I try to think what I'd want in a doe, it always cycles back to you. You know me. You respect me, and honestly I've met a lot of mammals who don't. That's one reason I always had a hard time looking for help or accepting it. Besides that, you're strong and fun, and… and beautiful."

The good news was it seemed to be working. The bad news was, in his somewhat blanked-out state of mind he wasn't sure what else he could say to build her up. He considered adding that the lack of respect – indeed, the sense of being downright pitied – had been what killed his last attempt at a relationship in what now felt like some other lifetime. He abandoned that and decided to put a bow on his little speech instead.

"Maybe you're not the long-range type, but I can live with that if it comes to it. I just don't see how I could bring myself to get involved with any other doe unless… well, unless I at least tried it with us first."

That put the ball back in Judy's court. She thought carefully about how best to respond, for seconds that agonized poor Shamus. It wasn't the first time a guy had brought this kind of thing up early on with her, though even most of them didn't bring it up right out of the gate like this. On the other hand, most of those guys had been years ago; much less mature than he was, and frankly she'd been less mature back then herself. It wouldn't be right to let that prejudice her when it came to Shamus, of all bucks.

"Well," she said after a moment, "I'm not against the idea, but I hope you're not expecting to rush it.

Shamus fairly melted just from her not saying a hard no. "Oh, hardly," he demurred. "I wasn't figuring on less than... oh, a couple of years anyway."

Now that was something she could work with. "Okay. We can talk about it if we're still dating that long."

"It's a deal," he agreed, glad to have that bit of pressure off.

From there they moved on to discussing things they enjoyed doing, some in terms of dating possibilities and others just more generally. Judy was surprised, and pleased, to discover that Shamus hadn't given up entirely on athletics. He still ran half-marathons and even some triathlons, though in his condition he had to do it for the challenge of finishing rather than any expectation to win or even to necessarily beat his previous times. More than once his leg had flared up on him mid-run and he'd been obliged to wave off assistance while he waited for the pain to subside. As for other exercises, he did weights and had gotten pretty good at the punching bag game at a nearby bowling alley. For his own part, Shamus drank in the details of Judy's life as a cop and the things she'd found time to do and enjoy around the city on her own time. She seemed hesitant at first, thinking perhaps that sharing her exploits would rub in the fact that his life was more limited. He didn't take it that way at all, glad at any rate that one of them at least had realized their dream.

Alas, the hour they had planned passed by all too quickly, and it seemed as if they had just begun warming to this date thing when they realized they both had places to be.

"Spare another minute?" Shamus asked as they were on their way out. Almost before she could answer, he stepped to the counter and ordered two carrot cookies to go. The gopher cashier rung him up, and he hustled back to Judy to give her one.

"A little pick-me-up," he explained. Adding a mischievous smirk, he added, "You can eat it while you plan your payback on that perp."

"Ohh, thank you," she smiled. Then, feeling self-conscious, she started to fish in her pocket. "You didn't have to do that."

He stopped her with an upraised paw. "My treat," he insisted. Then, recalling a bit of advice from Mike, he added with a smirk, "you can pay next time – and tell me how you busted that slimeball."

Her eyebrow quirked upward at the boldness he implied. "Did I say there would be a next time?" she asked.

The old Shamus might have taken that as a cue to start doubting. New Shamus deliberately pushed the thought down. New Shamus also decided not to point out that she'd already hinted it, and simply play through. "That part's not my job," he answered. "I'm just doing what is."

After a brief pause, Judy nodded. "I'll text you my schedule for next week," she promised. "But if I'm paying, I pick the place."

"Deal," he agreed, sticking out a paw.

They shook, he holding on just long enough to betray an ulterior motive. She smirked. "See you next week."

He waited until she was out of sight and hearing before he allowed himself a fist pump. "Yes!"

Almost at once his triumphant air evaporated as the nerves in his leg acted up and he dropped to his good knee, stretching the bad one out straight. "Ow. Ow. Not a good time now. Stop stop stop stop."

A passing armadillo stopped and stared at him. "Do you need help?" she asked.

"Oh, it'll pass, thanks," he assured her, waving her on, unable to stop grinning for long in spite of the pain. "To be honest, I've never felt more alive."

She gave him a puzzled look, then went on her way. At another time, Shamus might have been embarrassed or annoyed. Right that moment, though, he couldn't care less what anyone thought of him except a certain violet-eyed doe.