"God gives grace to the humble, but He flattens the hotshot."

Mrs. Martin, The Adventures of McGee and Me

"Hey, watch it!"

Nick darted aside as a rhino's foot came down uncomfortably close to where he had been standing. It was late morning the day after his rounds with Judy, and after having contacted all his most promising accquaintances he'd remembered that the food supply at his apartment was a little scant. He was supposed to meet with Judy that afternoon once she was done interviewing some of the victims in the recent drugging incident to see if that might turn up any leads.

On the whole, he found he preferred crooks and cons to the daytime crowd in Savannah Central.

The massive mammal glanced down at him. "Watch yourself, pipsqueak," he rumbled, moving on.

Nick shook his head. "How can someone look down his nose with those big horns in the way?" he muttered, going back to browsing the dried bugs. The question of why an herbivore would even be in an aisle geared toward predators also came to mind. He considered asking if the rhino was looking for a relative among the beetles, but the jerk was leaving and the quip wasn't worth bringing him back – much less potentially getting flattened.

He made a note to keep more alert, and in the process noticed a lioness walking by, trailing a cub with a balloon on a long, long string. Ever the sales-fox, it occurred to Nick that balloons would make a handy solution to the visibility issue. His mom had done that sometimes back in his cubhood when they went to fairs.

"Only, I'd look ridiculous walking around with a balloon tied to me," he uttered under his breath. Hawaiian shirts – like the very loud red one he was currently wearing, bedecked in yellow flowers outlined in gold – were one thing. They were fun in their own way – especially today when he felt the need to reassert himself by wearing something outlandish even by his standards – but a balloon would be going too far. Catching a glimpse of a passing antelope buck with a doe on his arm, he noted another snag with the idea: "And it would wreak havoc on my charm."

"Do you always talk to yourself?"

He turned around and froze. There, regarding him with a contemplative gaze, was the vixen from the day before. His words to Judy came back to him: 'You know on the off chance I bump into her later I am never going to be able to face her, right?' He tried to push that less-than-cheerful thought aside. Maybe she had forgotten their last run-in; things like that had happened before.

"So, it's 'Junior Detective,' right?"

Nick wanted to dig a hole in the floor. Then again, maybe not. "Nick Wilde, actually," he replied, hoping to salvage his dignity. "Only Carrots ever calls me... Junior Detective." He trailed off, realizing he had just admitted to being on a nickname basis with the cop who had pulled her over. Someone slap me already, he thought.

"Carrots?" the vixen tilted her head.

"The cop who, uh... the rabbit," he amended. "You might know her as Judy Hopps?"

Nick figured an offhanded delivery of news like that was sure to get a reaction. The vixen didn't disappoint as her eyes popped open.

"The Judy Hopps?!" she echoed. She'd thought the rabbit looked familiar, but she'd been a little too busy hoping to avoid a ticket to think about it. Now she almost wished she had been ticketed; it would practically be an autograph.

"That's the one. Sorry about the traffic stop."

She waved a hand, brushing the matter aside. "Nah, it's fine. I was a little out of it. Sometimes I just get too into the music, you know?"

Nick, who preferred to take a "too cool for this" approach to most tunes, nodded anyway. "Yeah, I gotcha."

By some unspoken signal, the two of them went on with their shopping in tandem, still chatting. Nick was taking mental notes on the vixen's selections the whole time; a hard-wired habit from years in the sales world. He also made note of the fact that neither of her paws had a ring on it. That was as much a survival skill as anything else, really; a hefty number of his narrow escapes in the past had come from trying to steal someone's girl.

"I don't think I caught your name," he mentioned. He had kind of forgotten what the name on the license was, which was probably for the best in retrospect; knowing too much too soon had backfired on him before, more times than he cared to remember.

"That's because I didn't throw it," she replied, sticking out a paw. "Taelia Stones."

Interesting name, he thought. "You seem to know the store pretty well," he noted as she unhooked a small stepladder from her shopping cart and climbed up to reach a deal on one of the higher shelves.

She shrugged. "Well, I like to try different things when it comes to food, so I explore a lot. So how did you end up riding with Judy Hopps? I didn't think cops gave rides."

He coughed. "Uh, actually, I'm not supposed to talk about it," he explained as she came back down the ladder. Then he leaned in closer and whispered, "I'm helping her on a case."

"Really?" The whole thing sounded pretty exciting to Taelia. "What kind of case?"

"Well, on the record I can't tell you that." He had largely managed to stay out of the news articles. The ZPD made it a rule to keep informants and witnesses anonymous whenever possible, and although word seemed to have gotten out that he was working with the authorities this time, he was just fine with not helping the news reach anyone who might want to shut him up. Taelia seemed safe enough, though, so he leaned toward her and whispered, "Strictly between us foxes, though, it might have something to do with the predators being darted over the last few months."

She blinked in surprise as if a camera flash had gone off in her face. "You were part of that?"

He nodded, pausing to pick up a package of Pop-Tarts. "I gave her a few leads, yeah," he replied. His charm hadn't abandoned him, he could tell; she was eating the story up. "And I kind of helped her out when it came to bringing in Bellwether."

Taelia was intrigued by Nick's claim. She'd outgrown the idea of a selfless hero motivated purely by altruism some time ago, but a girl could still dream, right? "So what kind of help did you give her?"

Nick coughed. "Oh, just putting her in touch with a few people here and there. I've got friends all over the city, and Judy has a way of bringing out the best in mammals. I think she'll go far in life."

That got Taelia thinking of something else. "So what do you do when you're not saving the day, Mr. Kent?" she asked, deciding to humor him.

He raised an eyebrow at the joke. "Eh, bit of an entrapeneur, really; mostly in sales."

"What kind of sales?"

"You name it. Popsicles, rugs; all kinds of things. I'm thinking about changing careers, though; Judy's kind of got me thinking of law enforcement."

Taelia looked up from some yogurt-covered raisins. "A fox cop? Has that ever been done before?"

"Nah, but why let that stop me?"

She smiled. It was a tall tale to swallow, but she had always been a pretty good judge of character – and deep down, she really wanted to believe him. "Well, I'm sure you'll do great."

Nick paused. Not many mammals ever expressed confidence in him. Since he'd lost his dad the only ones to say they were "sure he'd do great" were his mother (who would say that, of course) and Judy. "Thanks," he said with full meaning. "That means a lot." Uncomfortable with the silence, he asked, "So what do you do for a living?"

"Oh, me? I'm a D-Jane." In response to the puzzled look this gained her, she explained, "A sound technician. You know, the person in the sound booth at concerts and recording sessions? Kind of like a conductor. I make the music sound better."

"Ah." Nick hadn't really given much thought to that, but he guessed someone had to do it. "So you must work with a band or something, right?"

"A few. I've got some regular bits, but I'm a free agent."

'Free agent.' I like the sound of that, thought Nick. "Anyone I'd know?"

She shrugged. "Well, Gazelle for one."

Nick's eyes popped. "You've worked with Gazelle?"

Taelia laughed. "No; I always say that to see if people are paying attention. Sometimes mammals just kind of glaze over when I tell them what I do."

"No, I want to hear," he insisted, quite honestly. Even if he hadn't been that interested in her work, he was interested in her. "So what are some of your regulars?"

"Ever heard of Vixen?"

Nick paused. "Vixen. Yeah; I've heard some of their songs on the radio. You were behind that?"

"Every note. I've been with them since the first jam session."

The tod made a mental note to look up some of Vixen's music. He was pretty sure he'd heard a few of their songs here and there, but a concentrated study wouldn't hurt.

They got so caught up in talking and shopping that both of them were a little surprised when they found themselves on the other side of the checkout. Nick coughed. "Well, I guess this is where we part ways."

Taelia considered. "That depends," she replied.

"Depends on what?"

Taelia

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