Author's Note: I am so sorry this took so long. Please see the chapter's end for further notes.

The trip from the chief's office to the elevators was a short one, but it still gave Nick time to ponder his next move.

All things considered, his tidy little outline of a plan was coming together quite nicely. Sure, the chief had gone and dropped one hell of a bomb in his lap. But the the buffalo had still given his blessing, reluctant as it was, which meant the only real hurdle left was a certain rambunctious rabbit.

So, on that front, the reynard schemed.

Nick didn't do rigid, detailed plans. Too many complications. Backup plans stacked atop backup plans, ad infinitum, until the whole house of cards fell in on itself; Murphy's Law in action. The key was staying flexible. Not flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants chaos, but striking a certain balance had always served the fox well.

Or nearly always, but no need to dwell on that now. Because today would not be an "almost" scenario. Nick was at the top of his game, and he intended to stay there. All the way to the end.

If he'd done his homework right-and Nick usually did-the best play was to roll Hopps hard and fast. Rabbits were a quick bunch by nature, and this one was, from what he'd read, one of the best. But Nick? He was a fox. Stereotypes aside, foxes knew how to handle rabbits. It was in the blood. Always had been. Always would be.

Now? Time to embrace those instincts.

The elevator slid to a stop with a soft chime. The doors pulled open and Nick stepped into the lobby proper, sporting his easiest smile. Fortune promptly smiled back. There was Hopps, at the foot of the empty front desk and anxiously awaiting his return. The moment their eyes met, Hopps lit up with a hopeful grin. Excellent. Nick didn't waste any time.

"I come bearing glad tidings," the fox declared as he approached, both arms thrown out to the sides. Then he ducked down, paws on his knees, bringing himself to eye level with the rabbit. An indulgent wink topped it all off. "Congratulations, Hopps. We have the Otterton case."

Those words, Wilde could tell, had just made her day. Two ears stood tall as a cotton tail wiggled. Then came what had to be one of the the giddiest bunny hops he'd ever seen. The rabbit threw both arms up in the air. "Yes!"

Nick merely responded with a pleasant chuckle as he swept on past, smooth as silk. Silently counting down the moments until one particular little detail hit home.

To Hopps' credit, it didn't take long. Nick could almost hear her expression drop like a stone.

"Wait…."

Nick glanced back over his shoulder with feigned curiosity. "Something wrong, Hopps?"

He watched a clearly troubled Hopps gesture back and forth between the two of them. "You said we? As in the two of us?" A hesitant pause ensued. "As in, plural?"

There's the curve ball….

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet already," said the fox, pretending to miss the implication. Somehow, because Hopps had all the subtle grace of a rudderless aircraft carrier. "Sure, meter maid to cop is a big jump. But this is what you wanted, right?" He swung around, slapping a paw up against the front desk and leaning upon it. With a quirked brow and a nod up at the balconies above, Nick went on. "Or am I wrong and all that up there was a total waste of time?"

Butting heads with Hopps, the fox knew, wouldn't work. Not. One. Bit. Every piece of research told Nick that she'd been fighting that kind of adversity all her life. She knew it intimately. Understood how to beat it...or thought as much, anyway. Going head-to-head with the rabbit only invited more problems. Needling that apparent guilt complex of hers, on the other paw? That worked wonders.

He watched as the bunny bristled. "What? No, no! Of course it's….no, it wasn't a waste of time, sir. No." She cleared her throat. Bounced on her heels. Clenched and unclenched her paws as she worked through her nerves. "I just thought, you know, that uh…."

Hopps swings. She misses.

"Oh." Nick snapped his ears up high, as if realization had just struck home. "Ohhhh, I see…." He tilted his head in a show of bemusement, his words kept slow and thoughtful. "You thought you'd be flying this one solo, huh? Now how in the name of Noah did you get an idea like that?" He scoffed in apparent wonderment. "I mean, don't get me wrong. Loving the vote of confidence, really, but I'm just a haggler. And you, Hopps? You are one heck of a tough sell." Nick threw in a paw gesture. "Think about it: Our good Chief Bogo, sending his newest recruit out on her own? Into the big bad city, with no experience and zero backup?" He dialed up the incredulity. "Talk about praying for miracles."

He watched Hopps hesitate. Watched as her frown built and her violet eyes flicked about, the quick little gears in her head going to work. The bunny likely thought there was some way to fix this latest setback. To get what she'd ever so clearly wanted all this time: The Otterton case in her paws and done her way. It would be an accomplishment all her own, so that everyone could see just how amazing one little bunny could be after all.

Such a shame how that didn't fit into his plans. Ambush predator that he was, Nicholas Wilde already had his trump card at the ready. Had it since the very beginning, in fact. Poor naive little Officer Hopps had never stood a chance.

"Look, I know it's not exactly a blue ribbon at the county fair," the fox consoled, a sympathetic smile firmly in place. "But isn't helping Otterton the important thing?"

Then, there it was. The sledgehammer of guilt, coming down and smashing the rabbit's resistance to smithereens. Really, how could she even think of being so selfish at a time like this? He watched her wince and cringe back, opening her mouth to apologize.

Nick took the initiative. "Nah-ah. No more of that, Hopps," he scolded, wagging a digit. "Hate to pull rank on you right off the bat, but this is a direct order. I need my protégé to have her head in the game, one-hundred percent."

A parade of expressions marched across the bunny's face. Something close to blind-sided bafflement brought up the rear. "Protégé?"

"There's that boundless enthusiasm again," Nick teased, not needing to fake his sly grin at all. Watching a flustered Hopps check herself-again and again-really was a treat.

"I'm sorry, sir, it's...a lot to take in," the rabbit managed. "I mean, this is all happening so fast. We just met this morning, and now you're suddenly my boss?"

"Mentor, actually." The reynard exchanged his smirk for something more encouraging. "See, this little outing of ours is sort of a package deal. Because-surprise-the Chief wasn't too enthralled with our Otterton scenario. I might have gone and sweetened the pot a little. Hope that's not an issue."

With that, Nick had just put the ball back squarely in the rabbit's court, right where he preferred it. A sprinkle of honesty here, a smack of guilting there, and any pesky, potentially problematic questions were put on hold. Then there was the ever-so-useful implication that he'd saved the case with some quick thinking and reasonable concessions. As if he hadn't planned on Hopps playing second fiddle from day one. Leverage was leverage; clearly, the rabbit had every reason to be grateful.

So grateful she proved to be.

"Oh, no. No, not a problem at all, sir," the bunny quickly assured, perking right back up with remarkable speed. "I mean, if you got Bogo's okay, then where's the sense in complaining, right?" She smiled bravely, clasping her paws together with a soft clap. Nick judged her to be sufficiently sincere-he could make this work.

"Right! Okay, then! Mentor and protégé," Hopps went on, not missing a beat. Her eyes never left the fox. "I'm not sure how this is supposed to work."

Nick gave his patented smirk-and-shrug combo. "It's Easy Street, Hopps. You just follow my lead, play things by the book, and be a good little cop. Once we close the case, I hand in a glorified report card. If all went well-and here's hoping-somebunny's getting a metaphorical gold star on her record. Might be a nice little career booster. Just saying."

Another implication, that. Nick couldn't very well promise the chief's appreciation. His ongoing apathy was always the safer bet. But Hopps seemed the hopeful type. Nick watched as she connected the dots into a shape that pleased her, still without any apparent road bumps. Good. More green lights were always welcome.

The deal was sealed with one adorably earnest salute. "Then I guess that I'll have to prove you right, sir," Hopps declared, virtually brimming with determination. "You have my axe!"

Now that got a genuinely puzzled head-tilt out of Nick. "Come again?"

"You know," prompted Hopps. "Lord of the Ringtails?"

Nick scratched at his somewhat scruffy neck fur and pondered. "I don't remember the line."

"It's a pretty famous one."

"In my defense, I haven't read the books in a while."

Hopps blinked. "The-? No, sir, I'm pretty sure it's from the movies."

Nick blinked right back. "There were movies?"

"Uhh, guys? Am I interrupting something?"

Fox and bunny turned in unison to stare up at an obviously uncomfortable Clawhauser. How the portly feline had managed to sneak up on two pairs of highly sensitive ears, Nick didn't know. Chalk it up to a particularly distracting bunny, the reynard supposed. He watched as Clawhauser's eyes ping-ponged between the two of them. Then, slowly, the cheetah leaned down to offer-

"The case file!" The sight of that red folder got a squeal of delight from Hopps. Nick's fleeting look of amusement tempered that right quick. "Er, I mean...oh, look! The case file! Isn't that nice, sir?" She clasped her paws together over her lap, smiling and waiting. The red folder hovered before her, awkwardly untaken.

Nick reached forward to fix that, only for Clawhauser to snatch it back out of reach. Oof, talk about your faux pas. Because now there was a pair of fox paws left empty, and at the fault of an officer that Nick technically outranked. At the fox's lifted brow, Clawhauser winced and flinched back.

"Sorry! I mean sorry, Detective Wilde, sir! It's just that, you know, I thought you wanted me to get the file for Judy," the cheetah babbled. "I mean, for Officer Hopps! Not Judy. I mean, yes, she's...she's Judy, yeah. But calling her that here at work, in front of you, that's, ah, that's just...so...unprofessional...heh. Right?" That big wobbly smile concealed Clawhauser's worry about as well as did his awfully strained laughter. If anyone here could beat Hopps in the feelings-on-sleeves department, it was Benjamin Clawhauser. Which made rolling him just as easy.

The fox kept his smile supremely patient and his paws clasped behind his back. His eyes, however, swiveled toward Hopps with a hint of awkward pleading. All by design, of course. Time to see how far that touted loyalty of hers really went.

Hopps did not disappoint. "Actually, Ben, it's not really my case anymore. Or never was, I guess." Her smile barely wavered, and her shrug held only the barest hint of resignation. The rabbit had rallied well; Nick couldn't help feeling a little impressed. It seemed there was hope for this one after all. "I'm following Detective Wilde's lead-"

"-while I show Officer Hopps the ropes," Nick finished, jerking a thumb in her direction. "Chief just greenlit a nice little test flight for Hopps here. All we need is that file and then we're good to go."

"Oh," murmured the cheetah, quietly and without any trace of happiness. Only hesitation in the face of utter defeat. Mercifully, it didn't last long. "Then...I guess this really is yours after all."

Nick took the proffered folder with a pleased nod. "Thanks a ton, Ben. And don't look so worried. I'll be taking good care of her."

Maybe it was something in his tone or look, but Clawhauser apparently thought it reason enough for near panic. The cat swallowed it back when Judy shot him a look of well-meant warning. "That's good to hear, sir," he managed, tightly. "I'll hold you to that."

Huh. Was that a veiled threat? From Ben, of all mammals? Interesting. Laughable, but interesting. Nick filed the incident away for later

"Hey, no worries. It's me, remember?" With that final parting shot of a wink-because for poor Clawhauser looking after his bunny buddy, what else could it be?-Nick twirled on a heel and set off for the lobby doors. "Shall we hop to it, Officer Hopps?"

Nick could almost hear the silent argument playing out behind his back. Clawhauser's last-minute pleading clashing up against Hopps' iron determination. Nick knew the bunny wouldn't budge. Indulging that paranoia and dissatisfaction would be feeding her own ego-at least, that's how Hopps would see it. Even worse, it would be the betrayal of a promise. Hopps, he decided, was in too far to abide that. Perfect.

The bunny's bickering let him crack open the case file for a cursory once-over, unmolested. Everything inside was about what he'd expected, so no last-minute surprises there. He snapped the folder shut the moment Hopps caught up, denying her even a glance over his shoulder. Well, around it, anyway.

What he offered instead was a challenge.

"Alright, now we're on the clock. Which means that your evaluation starts...right…" Nick glanced at an imaginary wristwatch as he ushered his charge out the door and into the mid-morning sunlight. "...now! Okay, Hopps, time for a pop quiz." They paused there, right on the station doorstep, and Wilde deftly secured the folder under an arm. "Let's see how well you know your districts. What can you tell me about Sahara Square?"

Hit Hopps hard and fast. Keep the bunny off-balance. The reynard's strategy was still working like a charm, leaving the rabbit fumbling for good half-second. "Oh, uh, well, it's definitely hot-" She sighed at Nick's tease of a chuckle. "The hottest, driest biome in Zootopia. It generates more tourism revenue for the city than all other districts combined. It also has the highest property premiums and cost-of-living expenses, especially within a mile of the Palm Tree Hotel."

"Oh, very good, Hopps. Very good." Nick rewarded her with a nodding smirk of approval. "Now where did you pick all that up from?"

The bunny practically beamed at the compliment. Nick had expected nothing less. The sudden hint of embarrassment, however, was an interesting twist. "I might have picked up a few city guidebooks over the years."

"A long-time fan of our fair city, then," Nick remarked. The reynard barely held back a scoff. Personally, he found the notion absurd. Leave it to naive little bunnies, Nick supposed. "Wow, I guess living here must be a dream come true, huh?" An aloof glance up the station walls hid a mistrustful look. "With some exceptions, I'm guessing."

Hopps' ears drooped noticeably. "It's...not exactly what I expected," she admitted, with some hesitation.

"Rarely is," Nick agreed, making sure to flash a sympathetic smile. "Now, you said the Chief kept you on the Central circuit, right?" He threw in a nod for the both of them. "Add to that the usual meter maid hours and one case of crippling depression-don't deny it, Hopps, we were both there-and I'd wager you haven't done much exploring yet. Am I right?"

Those bunny ears went right back up. "It really took them eight years to promote you, huh?"

It'd be flattery coming from anyone else. Nick waved off the thought. "Yeah, but your job prospects are probably better these days. Anyway, I think I see your problem. You're still a country gal living in the big city. Still feeling like an outsider. We need to get you cosmopolinated."

Her confused muzzle scrunch was, frankly, cute as hell. "That's...I don't think that's a real word."

"It's a portmanteau of 'cosmopolitan' and 'pollinated.' Fits the occasion pretty well, don't you think?" Nick wiggled his brow.

"But it's not a real word...sir."

Stubborn bunny. Still adorable. She'd be a hoot at scrabble games. Maybe it was a huge rabbit family thing? Nick liked to imagine as much.

"I don't see what the big deal is. Shakesbear did this kind of thing all the time." The fox followed up his shrug with a smirk. "Point is, we're going to broaden your horizons a little. And this particular horizon is desert-themed." With that, he brought his paws together with a clap and a rub. "Now we just need a ride."

Right on cue, they came to a stop at the edge of the police lot. The two mammals gazed out across the wavy rows of black and white cruisers. Most were monstrously huge, the true alpha predators of the Zootopian roadways. A few were scaled for wolves, just a smidgen too large for Nick. For Hopps, of course, every choice was hopeless. Not that she seemed to get that. In fact, the moment she'd set foot on the lot, the bunny had gone and perked right back up. Arms happily swaying at her sides and everything.

"Which one is ours?"

"None of them." Nick headed off her look of betrayal with an upheld digit, a patient smile playing at his lips. "The budgeting office was never going to approve a police cruiser sized for just one mammal. Which worked, because I don't mind riding shotgun." That smile became a smirk as he nudged the rabbit's shoulder with an elbow. "Buuut, fun fact about making detective? You get certain privileges. Like, say, the use of one's own civilian vehicle. We'll be riding in style."

That turned the bunny's frown upside down, alright. Too bad Nick was playing roller coaster attendant just then. Her ride of a day was far from over.

"...Is what I would say if my car wasn't in the shop." Not that it been part of the plan. But that just proved his point about keeping things flexible.

Hopps furrowed her brow in confusion. "So how are we supposed to get to Sahara Square, then? The subway station's back the other way."

Nick smiled brightly. "Easy one, Hopps. We're taking your car."

"My car? Sir, I don't have...a…." Gentle puzzlement shifted into abject horror. "Oh, no, sir, please. You can't be serious."

"Desperate times, Hopps," the fox sang, headed off in exactly the one direction he knew the rabbit dreaded most. And then there it was, wedged into a tiny corner of the lot. The Three-Wheeled Jokemobile, as Nick had long ago taken to calling it. Not the same make or model as the one he'd been stuck with, but the basics were all there. Tiny. Looked ridiculous. Easy to wreck. Still probably couldn't even hit twenty miles per hour.

Behind Nick, his protégé groaned into her paws. "Whyyyyy?"

"Because Otterton, Hopps." The fox lifted the shared bench seat and dropped the folder into the shallow storage bin hidden beneath. Out of sight, out of mind. Then he hunkered down and tried to make himself comfortable. Ah, smaller and even more cramped than his old one. Wonderful development. He rolled his shoulders a bit. "We all have to make sacrifices."

Hopps glared at the cart for a moment longer, then wordlessly took her place behind the steering wheel. "Fine," she sighed, resigned to her fate. "Where to?"

"Nowhere you've been, Hopps. But worry not: You've got the best navigator in all of Zootopia. I know this city like the back of my paw."

The bunny started up the electric motor and they slowly puttered their way down the rows, toward the lot exit. "And this place is…?"

Nick snapped his digits and pointed onward, all drama and no accuracy. Sahara Square was, in fact, in the exact opposite direction. "Mystic Springs Oasis. Real ritzy place, where certain mammals go to relax in certain ways. Also, coincidentally, the last known location of our elusive otter." Nick pulled his favorite pair of slim black sunglasses from a coat pocket and slipped them on. In his peripheral vision, watched Hopps purse her lips in thought.

"So, it's like a kind of health club or something?"

Nick fought with all his might not to crack up right then and there. "Oh, it's, uh...it sure is something, alright." He bit down on a wobbling smile and looked away so Hopps couldn't see.

Gaze kept dutifully forward as they pulled out of the lot, Hopps nonetheless spared him the briefest glance.

The fox was ever so glad to be wearing sunglasses. "Let's just say, this'll blow those horizons of yours wide open."

"What, are they, like…." Hopps tensed in her seat, eyes wide. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "...Using drugs?"

This time, Nick did laugh. Hard. Oh, poor baby bunny bumpkin. Too pure for this world.

"No, Hopps. Nothing-snrk-nothing like that." Nick wiped away a tear. "All I'm saying is, there might be a little bit of, ah…." He chuckled as the tip of his tail gave a waggle. "Culture shock."

Praise Aslan for custom all-climate uniforms, because Judy didn't think she could survive Sahara Square without her own. Not even with the pair of natural radiators atop her head. The "Jokemobile" didn't exactly come with climate control options. Not even a working fan. So the pair had made do in their own ways. Wilde, by shedding his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Judy, by listening as the fox spun his yarns. Eight years worth of tales, told with all the talent of a master narrator. It proved a welcome distraction from the overbearing heat pervading the district. In Judy's book, unfortunate surprises in transit methods aside, it was a pretty nice little jaunt.

The ride that came after, not so much.

"You're mad, aren't you?"

Judy Hopps, officer-under-evaluation, chose her answer carefully. She also kept her eyes planted on the road ahead. It was the responsible, professional thing to do, after all. Best not to make waves right now...even if she really, really wanted to.

"I'm not mad, sir."

From over those slim black shades, Wilde sent her a look drier than all of Sahara Square. "Wow. That was convincing."

Judy pursed her lips. In that moment, it wasn't hard to recall Pop Pop's dire warnings about wily vulpine tricksters in coats of red: Hell, the ancient rabbit had often rambled, was a place of heat and horror. Where smug foxes delighted in the torment of hapless bunnies. Judy would always roll her eyes at that. Those were the backwards ideas of a generation gone by, with no place in the modern world. Now she knew better. There was no fire, nor any brimstone, but everything else had more or less panned out.

Especially the fox bit.

"Culture shock," Judy suggested, "was an interesting choice of words."

"Oh, come on, Hopps." With one arm slung across the cart's shared backrest and smirk curving his muzzle, Wilde looked the very picture of casual ease. Sounded it, too. "You've gotta admit, it was pretty funny."

The rabbit kept her tone diplomatic...or at least tried to. A little passive aggression might have leaked through. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, sir."

"A little funny," Wilde insisted, and Judy let the matter drop. There were other carrots to cook.

"Sir, not that I'm, you know, questioning your methods or anything. We do have a lead, now..."

A solid lead, hopefully, but that was up in the air for now. They had radioed in the licence plate number, only to discover the motor registration database was down for scheduled maintenance. Fortunately, Wilde knew a guy who worked in records and was just a phone call away. Less fortunately, digging up any hard copies was going to take a while. A long while, according to Wilde. Then he'd gone and decided the best way to burn time was with a little sight seeing. To broaden Judy's horizons, the fox had said. Familiarize her with the streets she'd be protecting.

The long scenic route had just given Judy time to stew on the matter at-paw, and now it had come to a head. "...But, sir, why on Earth didn't you warn me about that?"

That, of course, referred to an impromptu throng of stark naked animals. Into which a thoroughly red-eared Judy had dutifully plunged, following in the wake of one remarkably unflustered fox. Much to his obvious-and clearly ongoing-amusement.

"Waste of an opportunity, Hopps. Let's call it a pop quiz." That smirk definitely wasn't going anywhere fast. "This is an evaluation, and I wanted to evaluate." A one-shouldered shrug followed. "Ergo, I evaluated. Threw you in the deep end to see if you'd sink or swim. And, hey, you swam. Congrats."

Judy didn't think her eyebrows could arch any higher. Wilde, naturally, caught on quick.

"Sensing a little skepticism, there," noted the fox.

"Sir, you lied to me."

Okay, maybe that was coming off a little strong, but then so were her feelings on the whole darn mess. If there was one thing that really got under Judy's fur (and okay, yes, fine, there was more than just one thing), it was getting taken for a ride.

"Oof! Now that, Hopps, is a serious accusation." Wilde's look of false hurt evaporated, and sly amusement took its place. "Not to mention a baseless one. Because I. Never. Lie."

Judy had been wrong, and now her forehead almost hurt from the strain. "Sir-"

Wilde held up a digit, green eyes a-twinkling. "Ah ah! Consider the following." He slipped off his shades and shut them with a flick. "Mystic Springs Oasis is, in fact, something like a health club. And what you just saw there? One-hundred-percent pure, Grade-A Zootopia. Or one side of it, anyway. I'm guessing things are a little different back in good ol' Bunnyburrow. Ergo, culture shock." The fox settled back in his seat, looking utterly self-satisfied. "I never lie, Hopps. But you know how it is. Devils and their details."

Judy scrunched her muzzle as she tried to think up a good retort. Tried and failed. Because, if she was being honest? The detective was, on an annoyingly technical level, correct. He hasn't lied. No, not exactly. He'd just left out some slightly important details.

Still.

The bunny liked Detective Wilde. Really, she did. He was living, breathing proof that the Zootopian dream wasn't, in fact, a (complete) lie. An unconventional mammal who had (slowly) risen up the ranks of the ZPD to become a (somewhat) trusted officer. A predator who was kind and helpful and even sort of sweet in his own way. Not malicious, despite what even the usually open-minded Clawhauser seemed to think. Hadn't this been for her own benefit? Unconventional, sure, but not what Judy would call ineffective. The bunny, begrudgingly, supposed she could give him the benefit of the doubt.

Any retort she might have pieced together went unsaid, and the cart ride descended into uneasy silence. One which broke two streets later when the fox waved his white flag-in that special Detective Wilde kind of way, of course.

"You know," said the reynard, slowly and-maybe Judy imagined it-almost carefully. "In retrospect, that might have been a little much."

This time, the rabbit did chance a glance his way. "Just a little bit, sir?"

Wilde held his paws up in surrender, ears splayed back in what Judy took as a show of submission. Or would it be annoyance? Condescension? Reading foxes wasn't her strongest suit.

"Alright, Hopps. Point taken, and I'm sorry. Didn't mean to start things off on the wrong foot like that." He let those paws fall into his lap as he regarded her with...something. Judy wasn't sure what. "Don't suppose I can make it up to you?"

Judy was about to wave the idea off. Ready to forgive and forget because, darnit, that's the kind of mammal she was. Then she paused. Felt the lifting of her ears and the whirring of wheels in her bunny brain.

Then she smiled.

"Actually, sir, there is something..."

"Uh oh." Wilde sounded more far more amused than truly worried. "I've heard that tone before."

Judy ignored the tease. "See, I was thinking: You already know everything about me. Right?"

"Well, there were those articles," the fox hedged, his shrug noncommittal. "Everything is kinda pushing it-"

"But on the other side of the coin," Judy cut in, "I don't know much of anything about you." She paused for effect. "In fact, I don't think anyone does. Not anyone in the ZPD, anyway."

A bold statement, in Judy's estimate, but likely an accurate one. Clawhauser was the "in" mammal on the force. If he had nothing on Detective Wilde, then no officer did. Probably.

Flicking his gaze toward the windshield, Wilde followed it up with a click of his tongue. "Ah. So that's where this is going." Then the fox scoffed out a chuckle. "Don't you want something a little more tangible? Gift card to Bed, Bat and Beyond, maybe?"

Ever adamant, with both eyes still on the avenue ahead, a smiling Judy shook her head. "No, I'm pretty sure this is what I want, sir." Her ears perked and her lips smirked. "Maybe we could say I'm solving a mystery. Another part of the evaluation."

Judy liked to think she sounded pretty sly right then. Enough to give Detective Wilde a run for his money, even.

The fox, on the other paw, looked almost reluctant. "Seriously, Hopps? Awful big waste of a peace offering."

"Nuh uh, you're the one who asked. So no backing out now." The bunny was finding that she rather liked being the playful one for once. Satisfaction in smugness. She tilted her head in her own brand of mock cuteness. "Is it really so much to ask? I mean, unless you really are hiding some deep dark secret…."

For just one split second, Judy could have sworn that Wilde seemed almost taken-aback. Then the look was gone, with nothing in its wake but a laidback chuckle. "Thus the rumor mill turns ever onward, I see. Somebunny's been talking with a certain cheetah."The fox clicked his tongue and sighed. "Should've guessed; bet you didn't have a ton of options in the friend department."

Judy wasn't sure exactly what kind of look she'd shot him, only that it was enough to get two placating paws up in the air. "Not dissing Clawhauser, Hopps, relax. I like Ben. He's a great guy." A beat passed, and Wilde leaned his head the other way. "...But also the office gossip, and I know my reputation isn't…" He trailed off into a soft scoff. "Isn't the most flattering." The fox shrugged and gazed out the windshield. The look on his face struck Judy as oddly melancholic. Something which didn't fit the detective she knew at all. Not one bit.

"Now you know it too."

Oof. Okay, so he hadn't taken that quite so in-stride as she'd expected. Judy being Judy, the rabbit tried the optimistic approach. "Well, uh, maybe it's because no one knows the real you? I could try and fix that, if you let me." She shot him a short, hopeful glance.

Two half-lidded green eyes slid back her way, and the corner of that long muzzle lifted in a much more Wilde-ish way. "Last I checked, Hopps, you weren't even getting the time of day. Coming to bat for some shady fox won't change that." He leaned his head back so that his nose almost touched the curve of the canopy. "Hearts and minds and all that jazz."

Judy deflated a bit. It sucked, but the detective was probably right. In her short time on the force, Judy couldn't come up with any evidence to the contrary. Wilde, meanwhile, had known these mammals for years. He'd know how this would all play out.

"Of course," mused fox continued, and in a suddenly much lighter mood. Two emerald eyes darted back her way. "That'd be the easy part. Cause first…." Wilde spread his paws, digits splayed. "...You'd have to solve the enigma that is Detective Wilde. No easy task, I assure you."

The rabbit snorted. Wow, alright, sure. She could ham it up too. "Yes, one of life's biggest questions: How does my boss-"

"Mentor, please. Not a huge fan of the other word."

"-my mentor not know about the biggest fantasy movie epic in forever?"

Wilde smiled sweetly, not taking the bait. "The world may never know."

"Golly, that's a real shame, sir." Judy's eyes went half-mast. "Oh, wait, no. Cause there's that peace offering you already promised me." She sucked in a breath through her teeth in sarcastic disappointment. "Yeahhhh. Looks like there's won't be any mystery after all."

Victory was decidedly short lived. "Au contraire, my good officer." Wilde was already grinning smugly in return. "You seem to have forgotten that I am your mentor."

Judy's smile promptly flatlined. "But you don't like pulling rank!" she accused. "You said that! That was you!"

"Then it's a good thing I'm definitely not pulling rank," he replied, pleasantly. "Just like I'm definitely not letting this little educational opportunity go to waste."

"Sir, you've got to be kidding me!"

Wilde ignored her, seeming absolutely enchanted by the idea. "No, this is great. I'll be the less-than-cooperative witness, and you'll be Miss Model Police Officer." He wagged a digit at her. "Cause I can tell you right now, playing Bad Cop will get you nowhere with me. Or nab you any gold stars." He finished with an impish grin and a lean her way. "Come on, Hopps. It'll be fun."

There wasn't any way around this, was there? Judy sucked in a breath, forced down a sigh, and nodded her head. "Okay, fine. We'll do it your way." Honesty, this fox.

"Aw, that's the spirit, officer." Wilde was all smiles then. Probably because, once again, the tables had clearly been turned. "Ask away, and let's see what happens."

At least Judy had a question already at-paw. But probably not the one he expected. The movie thing was strange, but the rabbit had bigger priorities in mind.

"Here's a simple one. Just something I've been wondering." A feeling of caution mingled with honest hope. She'd pondered a certain matter during their ride out from the station, but never really had the chance to bring it up. Now Judy wondered if she had lost her chance.

Yet, try everything.

Judy slowly took in a breath. Here went nothing.

"Alright, sir. I want you to tell me how you became a cop."

Wilde blinked. He turned his head and stared at her, brow quirked.

Then he laughed, any and all surprise clearly feigned. "What, is that all? Talk about playing softball, Hopps. But, hey, your choice." Utterly untroubled, he started counting off his digits. "Let's see here. First, I applied to the academy-"

She was going to pull her own ears out, Judy swore. "Sir!"

"Ah ah, no whining, Hopps," the fox playfully scolded. "Uncooperative witness, remember?"

Judy did her very best not to glare. Or roll her eyes. Or grit her teeth in frustration. "Fine. Sir." Well, two out of three wasn't terrible, right? "Why did you become a cop?"

"Hmm, now there's a much better question. Better story, too," Wilde said. "So long, in fact, that I'd rather not tell it all in one sitting."

No, no, of course not, Judy mentally sighed. That would be too easy. "And the reason for that being?"

"Because, Hopps, there's a lot of lead-up. I didn't just wake up one day and go, out of the blue, 'Wow, hey, I'm gonna be the first fox cop in the whole wide world!'" He spread his paws in artificial wonderment, then dropped them and chuckled. "Seriously, who does that?"

Judy kept decidedly silent.

"Not to say there weren't turning points. Guess we could go with one of those," mused the reynard, glancing out of the cab in apparent thought. Judy decided to just go with the flow and give him his space. Prodding him hadn't turned out to be the most successful strategy so far. At least she didn't have to wait long; those pointed fox ears flicked upward as their owner clapped his paws.

"Okay, I got it. Hopps, you seem like the chivalrous, straight shooter type. Any chance you were a Junior Ranger Guide back in the day? Or was home all Bunny Scout territory, far as the eye could see?"

An odd segue on his part, but Judy could play ball.

"No, Bunnyburrow had a Guide chapter," she explained. "Junior Ranger Scouts for the guys, too. But for my family it's Bunny Scouts or bust."

"You sound so thrilled about that," the fox observed, his sarcasm not misplaced in the least. "I'm guessing all the baking and cookie sales didn't exactly tickle your fancy."

That did get something like a chuckle out of Judy, or at least a small scoff. "Let's just say, sir, that I would have taken camping and mountain hikes in a heartbeat."

"And the games, the knot tying, the archery, the model rocketry, the helping old ladies across the street…."

One gray ear swiveled Wilde's way as an eyebrow arched in tandem. Huh, was that a hint of wistful nostalgia she'd just heard?

"Believe it or not, Hopps," the fox went on, head tilted back as he smiled up at the cabin roof, "I too was once an irascible little do-gooder, way back in the day. Completely insufferable. You'd have loved me."

Surprised as she was, Judy couldn't quite bite back a derisive snort. She'd gathered by now that the reynard wouldn't much care.

He didn't. "Doubting Thomas. Anyway, I was eight at the time, maybe nine, and I hear about this outfit called the Junior Ranger Scouts. So I think, 'Wow, now isn't that just Providence in action?'" Wilde's voice grew strangely reverent. Strangely quiet. "Hopps, more than anything in the world, I wanted to be a part of that."

He fell silent then.

A beat passed. Two beats. Three.

Then the fox shrugged and went back to scrolling on his phone. "So I joined up."

Several more beats ensued.

"...And?"

Wilde shrugged. "Not a lot to tell, Hopps. Stuck with it, graduated to the regular ol' Ranger Scouts. Learned all those valuable life skills, helped old ladies across the street, yadda yadda. Putting on the badge made a lot of sense after that."

"So that's it?" Judy was incredulous. Turning point, her big bunny feet! "Scouts, then cop?"

"Cause that didn't sound condescending at all," Wilde drawled. "Of course there's more to it Hopps. But we'll save that for later. Because there's a Snarlbucks around that corner up ahead, and we're making a quick coffee run."

The incredulity mounted. "Already? It hasn't even been two hours."

"Being awful judgemental, there, Hopps. Besides, I uh…." He trailed off, suddenly sounding oddly hesitant. "Well, since we're stuck together, guess you should know something. Just make sure it doesn't get around the station, alright? I have this condition…."

Judy's annoyance boiled away in an instant, guilt reasserting its (apparently all too rightful) place in her gut. "Sir, I didn't mean…." She winced hard. Stupid, stupid bunny. "...How bad is it?"

Wilde was looking away now, up ahead through the windshield again, his face schooled. "It's genetic. We don't talk about it much, but a lot of us predators have to deal with it."

He leaned back in, then, with sparkling green eyes and what had to be his smuggest smirk yet. "It's called being nocturnal."

Judy swore out loud. She'd walked right into that one.

Finding streetside parking for a teeny tiny little metermaid cart, at least was a breeze. "Sit tight, Hopps. Someone needs to keep an ear on the radio, and I can't think of any cop more qualified."

"Har har."

"Not a bunny joke, actually." Wilde hopped out onto the sidewalk and happily stretched his limbs. "You're my protégé, not my intern. Fetching coffee is a little beneath you. But maybe I can bring you a water? Carrot juice, maybe?"

That earned him a look.

"Ouch. It's just an educated guess, Hopps. No shame in that." With a grin and a swish of his tail, Wilde was off. Down the sidewalk, into the shop, and out of sight. Which left Judy all alone with an empty cart and a decidedly silent radio. Riveting. At least there was always Kibble Krush...

The phone was already in her paw when she spotted it: The red case folder. Still tucked under the seat where Wilde had left it, with a sliver of a corner jutting out into view. The case file that, in all of the excitement, Judy had forgotten to peek at.

She glanced back the way Wilde had gone. No sign of the detective yet. Technically, she shouldn't even glance through the file without his permission. But no fox, no foul, right? The eternally laid-back reynard probably wouldn't even care, anyway.

Sufficiently self-assured, Judy pulled the thing free and flipped it open. Her face promptly fell. This was it? This? At a grand total of one page, the so-called case file could barely count as a memo. There was the basic bio, a reference pic, a last-known-sighting….

Judy frowned and looked closer. No leads? No witnesses? This was ridiculous. An abysmally unprofessional, sub-minimum effort. Courtesy of one-

She checked the name on the report.

One Officer Bob Trumpet, apparently. Which begged the question: Just who the fluff was Bob Trumpet? Aside, of course, from a total incompetent who was so getting reported for gross negligence once Judy got back to the station.

She tossed the folder aside in disgust and fumed. Stewed. Mulled and mused. Under all that annoyance, some vague notion wiggled in the back of her head.

Judy double-checked the photo of Otterton's last-known-sighting. From the angle of the shot, she guessed it was taken by an elevated traffic camera. Not surprising. This was pretty much the go-to method for finding lost kids-or Otters, as it were. The city-wide "jam cam" network was beyond extensive. All an officer needed was a starting point. Then they could track a mammal wherever they went, camera by camera. Advanced facial recognition and tracking software that more or less automated the entire process. It was an effective-if still controversial-system.

At least when Officer Trumpet wasn't at the helm, it seemed. Judy could only shake her head in disbelief. Where was the timestamp? The date? The flipping location? This photo was totally useless!

The figurative light bulb finally flickered to life. Judy stared.

A few potted cacti in the background, some architectural styling, and that was it. The only clues that Otterton's last sighting might have taken place somewhere in Sahara Square. That was still a big if, and even then the district was no tiny place. Yet Detective Wilde had zeroed in on Mystic Springs Oasis without a second thought. No hesitation at all.

But how?

The rabbit slowly shut the folder and slid it back under the seat. It was silly, she knew; having second thoughts like this, and basically at the drop of a hat. The detective simply made a connection she didn't see yet. Wilde was eight years her senior, after all. Of course he was better at the job. This was all just irrational paranoia fueled by petty gossip and her own bunny instincts. She just needed him to clarify a few things, that was all.

Said train of thought went right out the window the moment a decidedly unhappy Wilde plopped back into his seat, coffee clutched in one paw and his phone in the other. "Hopps, I think those lucky rabbit feet of yours might be defective."

Judy blinked at him, honestly unsure how to take that. "Excuse me, sir?"

Wilde took a gulp of coffee and hissed through his teeth, all earlier playfulness utterly absent. "Got the call from records. Right now, you need to get us down to the ZPD impound lot, asap."

Something like worry danced behind those distracted green eyes. "Cause if you don't, Hopps, our lead on Otterton is about to go up in smoke."

Author's note (cont.): Well, it certainly has been a while, hasn't it? No, the story is not dead, because I really have been working on this one damn chapter all this time. Writing, rewriting, deleting, and then restarting it all again ad infinitum, ad nauseum. Let me tell you, I'm glad the chapter is over and the story can finally move forward. To those of you who kept pushing me to get this done (special shoutout to CombatEngineer and TheWyvernsWeaver here), you have my strongest thanks. Hopefully, this chapter lived up to your expectations. If not, well, we're in the same boat. You go over something too many times, trying to tinker with all the little details until they're just right, and it all starts blurring together. It didn't help that this chapter feels very "filler-ish" to me. Still a necessary installment, mind, but it was still a pain to write through. That's not a very good excuse, but all I can do is make the next chapter that much better-and, of course, pump it out that much faster.