"Y'know, Carrots, if I had as many brothers and sisters as you, I'd've been—shoom—out the window by the twelfth one."

"Well, I stuck around till 275, so." Judy turned and shrugged, leading the way down the next corridor backwards. "You get used to having a big family. I can't imagine having—well—just me. "

"Really." Nick blinked at her slowly, disbelievingly. "That's nice, that's real sweet. So you don't get, I don't know, crowded? Claustrophobic? Allergic to all the big eyes and the amount of natural cotton in the room?" He straightened his tie, scowling slightly at the little bunny-print left right in the middle of it.

"Let's just say you don't know what crowded is if you grew up crowded." Hopps opened the first—and only door—this hall came to. "Here we are!" She bounced a little, proud of the round, stuffy space.

The fox set his old leather suitcase down in the opening, glancing around. He feigned an impressed noise in the back of his throat. "Mm!" Then he smirked down at her. "Nice laundry room."

"Very funny." He was winding her up. Judy elbowed him in the arm. Hard. "No, this is my room! Well, my old room. And I am loaning it to you for the remainder of your stay." She lowered her eyelids. "You should be feeling pret-ty special right about now. It was the one place in the whole burrow with a single rabbit living in it. Perks of being the oldest one of us still at home"back then!"

"Aww, little Carrots' bed." Nick plastered a patronizing, teasing smile onto his muzzle, patted the mattress, then hopped up onto it and tested the springs. His tail stretched over the whole thing, dropping off the other side. He moved to the chest near the west wall. "Little Carrots' dresser!" Opened the drawers. "Little Carrots' underpants!"

Judy snatched them out of his paws, nose twitching in embarrassment. "Yes, okay, thanks. Little Carrots was here."

Nick dropped the tease and set about sniffing around under the bed, trying to see if his suitcase could possibly fit beneath it. He didn't have that many things with him on this trip, but what seems spacious to a little bunny is usually lacking elbow room for a full-grown fox. If he left his clothes and toothbrush and heaven knows what around here, like he did in his own place, he wouldn't be able to walk to the exit properly.

"So your folks didn't ship this place out to the next little fluff after you left?" Nick hit his snout on the wooden underside of the bed. He rubbed it, looking sheepishly at Judy in case she noticed. She was grinning. Of course. She always noticed.

"Nope," Judy sighed, eyes somehow larger with nostalgia, flicking away from her partner and along each wall, each Gazelle poster, each paper badge she'd cut out and stapled, each Zootopia postcard stacked in corners. "I guess they thought it would be better as a guest room."

Nick went to stand beside his friend, taking in how Judy Hopps the room really was. He didn't show it (he never showed it), but it had a kind of earthy, fresh smell that seeped into his fur and fed the usual safety he felt when he was around the bunny herself. He wouldn't tell her, but nobody lit him up like she did. Believing in someone was a powerful card to play, and though it took some time, he'd folded in response. Cops were supposed to make you feel okay. Judy made Nick feel the brush of a hat between his ears and the red of a Junior Ranger tie around his neck. Like he used to. Like Nicholas Wilde could be someone that made other animals feel safe too, no matter what anybody said. Nothing was more okay to him than that. And this room smelled like her and looked like her and just had her written and taped and hammered all over it.

"Or they could just be sappy." Nick elbowed her in the arm. Gently.

Judy chortled. "Maybe." She slid her paws into her pockets. "So! Rules!"

"Rules?" Nick raised an eyebrow, stepping back over to her bed, checking out the nightstand. Dragged his suitcase with him.

"Rules. No blueberry juice on the duvet."

"You wound me."

"Not one red hair stuck in my rug. None of yourPredative magazines coming out to see the light of day."

"Light of day. Carrots, we're underground." Nick discovered her lamp—the base was made to look like a wheelbarrow—and, bored, pushed the little button that turned it on. Click.

"No rearranging furniture."

"Darn it all to heck." Click. Lamp off.

"No digging of any kind—"

"Are you serious, come on. I'm past that." Click. On.

"You may not use my bedpost to tie your tie in the morning." Click.

"Mm hm. I only had to tie it once. Been tied ever since." Nick wiggled the knot at her with his free paw. Click.

"And finally..." Judy was between him and her hideous wheelbarrow lamp in the next breath. She smacked her paw over his, turning the lamp off once and for all, smiling sweetly up at him. "No touching my stuff."

Nick assumed the innocent position, pads up. "You know, the whole point of a vacation is not having any rules. None. Zippo."

"Sure! And when it's your turn to pick our time-away destination, you can call the shots." Judy flipped over the bed, landing expertly in front of the door. Show-off. "I'm right down the hall if you need me—me and all 277 little fluffs."

Nick smiled. "Check."

"Dinner in five!"

He lifted a paw to wave at her in thanks and she slipped out. Nick began unpacking, leaving his magazines at the bottom of his case but, instantly irked by this act of obedience, countered it by looping every one of his ties over the bedpost.

Judy's head suddenly popped back in and Nick yanked the ties off, whipping them behind his back.

"Also, there's no TV down here."

She ducked back out.

Nick made sure to shout despairingly, "What?" as her footsteps pattered away, just to hear her laugh echo through the burrow. Then he returned the ties to their rebellious bedpost of honor, observing them with barely-concealed triumph. Hopps couldn't have everything her way.

It had been a while since Judy had slept with her brothers and sisters in the same room. Of course, two more had been added to the family since she'd moved away, so there were two additional beds to get used to in the corner. She'd spent all night listening to everyone's different snoring techniques, just laying there among the hundreds of little beds, arms behind her head, enjoying the country scents and the lingering feeling of being loved. They always greeted her with such excitement. Yeah, they were a handful—they were noisy—they were constantly fighting for her attention or tattling to her or hanging on her arms, but they were hers. All of them. If you could count all the names of all the people you'd met, all the names you remembered in your head, how many would they be? Of your friends and your superiors and the people you got to know? Judy knew 277 names by heart, and they were all in her own family. She had missed this clustered, cozy atmosphere. A city was a different kind of busy compared to a house. Zootopia was full too, but not like this. Nick didn't understand, and that was okay.

Hopps loved her new life, but every time she settled in for some Z's each night in her tiny apartment, she couldn't help noticing the silence. She'd missed every sound.

When she woke up the next morning, Judy bolted for the bathroom, knowing it was only a matter of time before about three dozen other rabbits were pounding on the door. The younger of the herd were still asleep, but her older siblings—the ones that had moved out long before her—were already upstairs; she heard Joseph's raspberry smoothie being blended and smelled Gracie's famous french toast baking. They still lived in Bunnyburrow, helping farm carrots with the rest of the family, so sometimes they'd spend a few mornings back in the warren. Mom and Dad would be up too, probably trying to make extra room at the long, long table for a fox. She'd better hurry if she wanted to help with breakfast.

Brush her teeth—her old toothbrush was still in its place on the holder that spanned all four walls—fluff her tail, scrub her fur, smooth her ears, do her makeup. She opened her suitcase. Tug on her flannel shirt, maybe a ball cap—no, lose the ball cap, too junior high—black jeans? White jeans? Blue jeans. No, khakis. Green. Normally Judy didn't worry too much about how she looked, especially back home, as long as it didn't interfere with her schedule, but they had company and she was a girl, cop or no cop. Nothing wrong with looking your best on a shining summer morning. Or maybe it was raining. Underground house. Rain was nice anyway—they could all go puddle jumping! She could slip mud down the back of Nick's shirt. Now she really wanted to know if it was raining or not. Please be raining.

One last thing to do. Judy took out a little rabbit-ear-shaped case of powder, specifically her fur color—Grey No. 3. From a small pouch that came with the case, she unzipped a little brush and set to work on her right cheek. This never took more than about five minutes, and it had stopped hurting years ago. Easy!

Then she was interrupted.

"I knew it," came the dry drawl she'd come to love hearing. Nick was leaning on the doorframe, fully dressed, smirking at her. "I knew you were hiding something. We all get white hairs here and there, Carrots, nothing to be ashamed of. Or is it something else? Wait, I know what it is, you dye your tail."

"How dare you," Judy scoffed, grinning and not turning from the mirror. "My tail is au naturel, thank you very much."

"Uh huh."

"How'd you sleep?"

"On the floor. Little Carrots was what, a foot tall?"

"Why didn't you say something?" Judy faced him, putting the powder down indignantly. She had a rug, but the ground was not comfortable in a warren when you wanted rest. It was cold. And wet. "Nick! You can't sleep on the floor. You can have the one I'm using; we'll push them together. That should be big enough, right?"

He didn't appear to be listening. He was staring at her. His eyes were wide open, which meant he was paying attention, rapt attention, and according to the dip of his eyebrows, he didn't like what he saw. Judy looked him up and down, concerned.

"Nick? What is it?"

Nick leaned down, squinting. "What in the hey did that?"

Judy raised a paw to her right cheek, self-conscious. Then she realized what he was looking at. "Oh!" She huffed, clicking her tongue. Seriously? He got so worked up over the most random things sometimes. Maybe he thought it was fresh. "This? No, no, this is old. Don't worry about it."

Nick had his paws on his knees, still inspecting her face. Eyes locked on the three scars running down one side. "Yikes. How long have they been there?"

"Forever." Judy flapped a paw, dismissing it. "It's okay, they're scars. It's not like they hurt." He didn't respond. "Really, it's fine, it's just not, you know, attractive on a rabbit of my age." She fluttered her eyelashes, then held up the brush to him, smiling. "Heh. Puttin' my face on. You won't even know it's there in a second." He should be chortling. This was getting awkward.

Nick took the brush from her, quick as a blink, and set it back down on the counter. His huge rusty paw almost enveloped it completely. His eyelids hadn't dropped yet. He wasn't joking back. And both brows rose. He wanted an explanation. Judy figured one of the most annoying things about having a best friend is being able to color in all their little movements and lack of sound, so you couldn't pretend you didn't understand what they were after. Best friends are great until you don't want to talk about something.

"It's no big deal. I was nine, it was at the town fair. A bully—Gideon Grey—he knocked me down, I kicked him, and then..." Judy pointed to the scars, faded, but obviously deep enough that fur didn't want to grow back quite as thick there. She rolled her eyes. "It was a long time ago. Mom and Dad wouldn't stop worrying about it, right, even after months of treating it. So...by the time I was twelve I decided I kinda didn't want it there to strike up any more 'talks' about predators." She made quotation marks with her fingers. Shrugged. Nodded to the powder. "It worked! Not one lecture since!" She took a breath. Explanations were exhausting when you tried to speak as quickly as your heart beat. "Just gimme a second—" She reached for the brush, but his words stopped her.

"You were nine."

Judy kept her eyes fixed on the brush for a second. You were nine. Nick had been nine too. I want you to remember this moment, the next time you think you will ever be anything more than just a stupid, carrot-farming dumb bunny. Why hadn't she made the connection before? No wonder they were so close in so little time. Nick had been muzzled at nine. Judy had been clawed at nine. She glanced up at him, and he was looking at her cheek, clearly lost in thought. Nick rarely got too serious, which could be both maddening and calming. But when it came to this sort of thing—the red tape others stretched across uncharted areas, marked in big black letters with what the two of them were and how they were seen—Wilde dropped all signs of the nonchalant and started acting like a cop. Like someone who was there to make things better. Those scars must have been hitting him where he lived.

Judy felt smoke whirl over her heart when she thought she was the one making him remember that muzzle just then. "Nick," she said softly, "I'm fine. It was years ago." He blinked, switching from the scars to her eyes. Her voice rose, chipper as always. "Besides, Gideon's not—"

A drowsy tone came from down the hall. "Are you talkin' 'bout that time the big fox knocked you down?"

Judy sighed. "Go wash up, Taylor."

The three-year-old bunny appeared behind Nick, dragging her blanket with her. "Daddy says he makes pies now."

"Yep. He does." Judy gave her little sister a winning smile. "Here—need your toothbrush?" She handed her the yellow one marked Tay and ushered the tyke out of the vicinity. "Use the upstairs sink." She glanced apologetically back at Nick. "She's always asking about when I lived here. She's not old enough to re—hey—are you okay?"

Nick had visibly stiffened. He straightened up. "Back up. A fox did this to you?" The upper part of his lip curled, just a bit, to reveal a canine.

Judy stuck her paws in her back pockets, trying to weather an obvious oncoming storm. "Oh, come on, Nick, I told you it's no big deal. I mean, we were kids. These days Gideon's much more—"

They heard Dad's voice hollering through the warren. "Hey young'uns! Up up up, ol' Gid's brought you some of those haymeal cookies you been asking for!"

At once, a flood of little bunnies poured out of the bedroom, pushing past Nick and Judy and up the stairs, making the pictures on the walls crooked and Nick's tie flutter. When they had gone, Judy crossed her arms, glancing at the steps.

"Wow. He must've made a lot of cookies." She looked back at Nick, a little nervously, forcing cheer into her voice. Forgetting to finish her thought. "Better go see if there's any left."

She clambered up the stairs, hoping her partner would follow soon, though he seemed back in his own little world again. It wasn't raining outside; she could tell by the extreme amount of sunlight pouring in from every window on the main level. She strolled out the open front door, round and deep cherry. Red wood. Judy's smile was back when she saw her little siblings crowding around Gideon Grey, who stood in his plaid shirt and his long apron, impossibly taller than everyone around him, beaming at the hopping children pleading for his goodies. He never seemed to run out of the pastries, passing cookie after cookie after cookie to bunny after bunny after bunny.

"All right now, don't crowd, there y'go—mercy, y'all gobble those things up faster'n I can dish 'em out—you're on my tail there, hon, scuze me."

"One haymeal cookie to go, please!" Judy called, springing over the others to stand in front of the reformed fox.

Gideon's grin grew, as usual, when he saw her. It seemed he was always trying to make up for that day at the fair, even just with his eyes, when she visited. "Yes ma'am." He plucked a big one out of the jar and handed it to her. "How long you gon' be in town this time, Judy?"

"Oh, Jude's here for the whole rest of the week!" Dad called from behind the throng, trying to pull apart two bunnies who had begun to squabble over the sizes of their treats.

Gideon whistled. "You got some vacation ahead o' you, Judy, all these little critters under one roof." Judy noticed he was careful not to call any of them cute, though he clearly wanted to. It was sort of irresistible, especially with Taylor still trying to catch his tail and giggling when he gently whisked it out of her way.

"It's worth it," Judy told him sincerely, picking Taylor up and directing her to Mom, who was pouring out lemonade near the door.

"Jude's even brought her new partner down with her," Dad went on conversationally, coming up to try one of the cookies himself. "Those two—I tell ya, the way they goof around, you'd think he was one of the family—"

"Sure would, and he is just the sweetest thing," Mom put in, keeping the pitcher of lemonade away from thirsty paws. "I mean, we were a little shocked when we learned he was a fox—"

"A little scared outta our wits," Dad added.

"—no offense to present company, right, Stu?"

"You betcha, Bonnie, no offense at all, and that's the honest truth—"

"But he's been so polite and oh, so funny—and hey, he even let these guys climb all over him yesterday!"

Gideon was watching Judy, his smile now taking up his entire face. "Y-You say yer new pard's a fox, is that right, Judy?"

Judy rocked back and forth on her feet, pride welling up within her. "He sure is."

Gideon's eyes looked a little watery and Judy thought back to that day at fair, marveling at where things were now. "Well that's—heck, I mean, that's just 'bout one o' the best things I've heard in a long—see I'm real happy, Judy, I'm real pleased I didn't—well—you never did know when to quit, did ya, and you ain't given up on us foxes, so—hey, y'all should come down to the shop today. Y'can try my new blueberry cheesecake, just made the first one yesterday. And you know what, I'll-I'll even give it to ya on the house, how's that?"

Judy blinked twice, rapidly. Bunnies really were emotional. To think this was the same animal that had once shoved her face into the dirt. Blueberry cheesecake? Nick loved blueberries!

But before she could burst out with a delighted we'll be there, Nick was suddenly behind her, licking his fingers one by one with a loud popping sound. Clearly he'd found the french toast. His cologne was now mixed with cinnamon.

"Golly gee, that'd be nice. Wouldn't that be nice, pard?" Nick hooked his paws behind his back, only a head shorter than Gideon and not making looking up seem degrading one bit. "But we've got a full day of nothing to do and wow," he chuckled, resting his elbow on Judy's head as he so often did, "wherever will we find the time?"

Judy, confused but chortling, ducked out from under his elbow, protesting good-naturedly, "Well, I think we can probably—"

Nick checked a watch on his wrist that wasn't there. "Nope, look at that, why, it's already—ten o'clock! Boy, Carrots, we're simply too far behind. I say we mosey on outta here and head straight for that watering hole you were telling me about on the way here, huh? Shall we?" He pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket and with a snap opened them, putting them on. Then he turned on his heel.

Judy glanced at Gideon, who seemed kind of taken aback by Nick's curt entrance—and even ruder exit. The larger of the two predators was looking between her and her partner's back as if trying to find something to say. Finally, his slow smile returned and he set his jar down.

"That's jus' fine, I-I reckon I could stand to make a few li'l adjustments to that cheesecake anyhow. Name's Gideon Grey, Mister...?"

Nick paused, and Judy saw from watching the sides of his shirt that he was taking a deep breath. One ear twitched. Then he whirled around and marched right back over, a smile of his own slipping on. Judy watched it appear. She knew him too well to be fooled by now. Nick was feeling downright unfriendly. Was this a fox thing? But he got along just fine with Finnick. Actually no, Finnick threatened to chew Nick's best features off on a daily basis. Maybe it was a fox thing.

"Officer Nick Wilde." Nick's voice was high, but his eyes were hard behind the shades. Judy was short enough to see them.

Gideon held out a paw. "A real pleasure, sir," he drawled, still grinning away.

Nick lifted his sunglasses, letting them perch between his ears. He let out a breath. "Whoof, check out those bad boys. What sharp claws you have there, Grandma."

Gideon blinked, looking down at his claws with a little bewilderment. Judy felt the gears in her head turning. What exactly was getting started here?

"Bet you leave those unsheathed wherever you go, huh, big guy?" Nick wasn't shaking Grey's paw.

Gideon put his paw behind his back. "Shucks, I gotta keep 'em out to loosen 'em up a little. Gon' help pull the carrots with Mr. an' Mrs. H later; gotta keep 'em out as long as possible so as to get used to 'em early in the day, y'know?" His last word bubbled into a chuckle of his own, one that he clearly hoped Nick would share. Didn't happen.

Nick's smile didn't falter, but his partner heard his teeth clack together. Just once. He took another breath, gearing up, swinging his arms and clapping his paws together, stepping here and there to feign casualty. "You know, if I was you, Curtains, I'd watch what I did with my ah—digits—around this warren, I mean mammals might start to talk."

"What?" Judy mumbled, eyebrows coming down.

"Uh...pardon?" Gideon spoke over her, not hearing her, looked more baffled than ever.

Mom and Dad had turned to watch.

Nick tapped the rim of the jar with one of his own claws, looking bored. "Well it's just—given your history with Officer Hopps here—" He met Gideon's eyes and tossed an arm Judy's way for effect, "—word of advice: you should maybe keep your manicure to yourself. Wouldn't want anyone to wonder what you get up to, hanging around this lovely home all your born days."

"Wait just a minute," Judy began, adrenaline hammering in her chest. She felt the heat rising to her face, kept her voice level. Was Nick assuming? About a fox? Nick?

"I-I reckon you musta heard about the town fair," Gideon swallowed, that same remorse painting the crease between his brows and the jut of his brown lower lip. "I admit I was a real scoundrel back in those days, but don't you go thinkin' there's one day goes by I don't regret the way I behaved, Nick, not one day."

"Yeah," Nick said, much more quietly now. His mouth closed with a snap before he muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "Well, old habits die hard. Don't they?"

Judy's mouth fell open. "Nick!" she hissed.

Gideon's mouth, however, did not close with a snap, nor did it gape. It just sort of wobbled as if he couldn't find the right words. Judy's paw went to his meaty arm. "Now...now I swear I—"

"Hold on. Nick, I told you," Judy broke in, repeating herself in exasperation, still sort of shellshocked, "It's not—"

"Oh, no no no, it's no big deal," Nick agreed, waving his pads, but his voice had by now become so false and so cold it took her breath away. "I'm just keeping the peace, off-duty cop, that's what we do, right?" He turned his attention back to Grey, teeth showing just a bit. "See, Curtains, we wouldn't want anyone thinking poorly of us redfurs just because oh, I don't know, some lowlife decided way back when he was gonna throw his weight around, and now every cottontail in Bunnyburrow looks at him and thinks, Uh oh. Watch out. Here he comes, grab your innocent 4th graders, because you know what that is, kids? That's a fox."

Gideon was gawking at Wilde, who was now right in front of him, neck fur bristling with anger.

Judy looked back and saw her parents, frozen, listening to every word, looking incredibly uncomfortable with the situation. Her siblings all still skipped about, only one or two stopping to watch, but the damage was being done. The atmosphere was crackling.

"Nick," she started, firmly, but he wouldn't look at her.

"And then maybe one day, that one poor innocent 4th grader grows up, and she's got dreams, and she's headed out, and she'll be an outstanding cop, seriously, outstanding. But what does she leave with, big guy, what does dear ol Ma and Pa send her off with? Lots of love, hugs and kisses, here we go—oops—almost left this!" In a flash, Nick had plucked something else from his pocket.

Judy and Gideon both stared in dismay at the little purple bottle clenched tight in Wilde's dark red fist. Judy wondered, somewhere in the back of her mind, where he'd found it. She certainly didn't keep any.

"You don't wanna leave home without this, do you, Hopps?" Nick growled out, never taking his eyes off Gideon, tilting his head toward his partner. He mimicked Stu's accent perfectly. "Cuz by gosh, what're you gonna do if you come across one of those darn foxes? 'Member that Gideon Grey, Jude, don't forget him, lemme tell ya, he was a real testimony to all those no-good, shifty loafers out there in the big city! Don't forget what he did to your pretty little face, Jude!"

Gideon's ears were flat to his head. Judy's grip on his arm tightened.

"Because all it takes," Nick was dangerously quiet now, holding out the Fox Repellent as if he were offering Gideon a bullet, "is one." He dropped it at Grey's feet, shoved his paws in his now hopefully-empty pockets, and turned again to go back inside. Mom's mouth opened and closed, as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

In a sudden burst of desperation Gideon called in a wobbly voice, "Listen here, I...Nick, I know I didn't do right by Judy an' hers, but that's all in the past, now, and I'm a changed fox, honest to goodness I am."

Nick scoffed, almost laughing, and turned to glare at the other male over his shoulder. "You know what, maybe you're right. My bad. Oh but wait, guess who's still carrying cans of that in every drawer?" He pointed his nose at the Fox Repellent in the grass. "And it's Officer Wilde, pal. I think I'll pass on that cheesecake. Thanks though." He waved, ducking into the warren with several wide pairs of eyes following him every step of the way.

After apologizing—over and over—to Gideon, and having a similar conversation with her parents, who were quick to forgive this time around—Judy finally went after her partner. He wasn't in the kitchen and he wasn't in the bathroom, so the next stop was the guest room. Her room. She inhaled, trying to quell her temper. How could he treat Gideon that way? The guy was obviously trying to break free of the way people perceived him. Nick knew a thing or two about that. But she suspected she already understood his actions. Best friends. Sometimes his showing that things got to him these days was less of a breakthrough and more of a social explosion.

She realized she'd been holding her breath too long and let it out all at once, some of her frustration with it. Good. That would let him know she was coming in and she didn't have to knock. 'Course she didn't have to knock, it was her door!

Judy stepped in, mentally slowing down. He was on the too-small bed, arms slung on his knees, fiddling with his phone.

He didn't look up when she came in. "No bars," he greeted. "Figures. How do you live down here?"

Judy decided not to play along this time. No beating around the bush. "You didn't have to do that."

Nick took a minute to respond. "Whatever you say, Carrots."

"No," Judy said, a little more sternly, "I-I mean you shouldn't have. Gideon's not the same guy. I tried to tell you."

Silence. But his screen was black.

"He didn't deserve that."

Still silence.

She sat down beside him. Nick let out a long sigh. She did that because she knew that outright asking him to talk only made him further irritated. He set his phone down. Might as well get it over with.

"How are we supposed to make the world a better place," he feigned a jolly smile and waved his paws a little in mock optimism, then flopped back to his original position like a deflated balloon, "when scum like him are constantly messing it up from the inside?" He massaged his temples a bit with two fingers, the same way her mother did when her siblings spilled something on a floor that had just been mopped.

Judy opened her mouth to defend the baker, but he must have seen it coming, because he continued in a rush:

"I mean, imagine what might've happened, no, what almost did happen because of him. With us." Nick stood up, pacing the tiny room. "Because of what he did. Those scars? Come on, no wonder you thought predators might be reverting to savages, look at 'em! Look how long they are. Who does that? You were nine? It's a miracle you even had the guts to even boot my stroller, Carrots."

"I booted your stroller because you weren't paying attention to me," Judy corrected him. "And I'm not your average bunny."

Nick rolled his eyes. He probably thought she wasn't paying attention.

Judy, realizing her ice-breaker wasn't working, went for the warmth in her tone instead. "Look. You know what it's like to be underestimated. I do too. You can't give Gideon that much credit just because of one little scratch he made when he was too young to care! The way that I looked at predators was more my fault than his. No one tells me what to think."

The barest hint of a smile quirked up at that.

"You should know better than anyone that nobody has to be just what they are..." She lifted his work tie off of the bedpost, holding it up. "...Officer Wilde." He took it from her, and she put a paw on his shoulder. "We can make the world a better place. Even if other animals don't try. Even if other animals get a late start. All it takes," she tapped the badge pinned to the tie, "is one."

Nick did smile then, and she hugged him around the middle.

"Thanks for sticking up for me," she said into his shirt. He could hear the grin. She pulled back long enough to add dryly, "even if you were about twelve years late."

Nick grunted. "Better late than never." He dropped the work tie back over the bedpost, and Judy gave him a dagger look for it. Evading it, Nick went for the door. "Speaking of, you know what sounds great right about now?"

"Burning every one of those ties?"

"Blueberry cheesecake. My treat."

Judy beamed, skipping to the door and punching him on the arm as he let her out. "Really?"

"Why not?" Nick felt his pockets, suddenly drooping. "Oop—wait a minute—are you kiddin' me, I don't have my wallet!"

"You owe me for this."

Nick nudged her on the way up the stairs, just enough to make her wobble. "I'm starting to think I owe you a lot, Carrots."

Judy hoped that was a compliment. A thank-you. It was probably as close as she would get. She beat him to the front door, blinking in the sunshine and leading the way down the dirt road to Gideon's bakery. He was right. This would be some vacation.