"Pep Talk"

A Zootopia Story

The weathered cushion creaked as Nick Wilde fidgeted, shifting his tail to a more comfortable position. He'd successfully hidden his nervousness so far—his half-empty glass of Koala-Cola was sweating more than he was—but deep down, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

The fox let his eyes wander to take his mind off the tension, his hustler's instincts soaking up every detail. The diner was sparsely populated: just a badger in a business suit drinking coffee at the counter (perfect mark for the classic "Don't you remember your old buddy from Zootopia U?" routine), a pair of college-aged pigs sharing a slice of pie (kids that young and inexperienced always took sucker bets), and one painfully conspicuous Benjamin Clawhauser hunched over the jukebox (practically had the word "Sucker" written in the spots on his forehead).

Eventually, though, Nick's gaze returned to the scowling cape buffalo seated across from him. "I've got to admit, Chief," he said, plastering on his most convincing smirk, "when you said you wanted a meeting, I was expecting something more… formal? Like a trip to the principal's office, I guess."

Bogo's comically stern expression betrayed absolutely nothing as he sipped his tea.

"Not that I'm complaining about the free food or the lovely company, sir," the fox continued, drumming his claws on the table. "But won't other officers to get jealous of this clear fav—"

"You talk too much," Bogo grunted.

Nick immediately deflated, ears flattening against his head. "I'm just surprised by the special treatment, is all," he muttered.

"Well, you are a special case," Bogo mused, adding a squirt of honey to his steaming brew. "You and Officer Hopps. A bunny and a fox on my police force. Never thought I'd see it in my lifetime."

Another sarcastic remark burned on the tip of Nick's tongue, but, thinking better of it, he washed it down with a mouthful of soda.

"Speaking of Hopps, when are you going to tell her how you feel?"

Nick nearly inhaled his straw. "How I…?" he sputtered. "Sir, I assure you, my relationship with my partner is purely professional."

"Is that why you call her by a pet name while on duty?" the buffalo asked, consulting the pages of a small notebook. "'Carrots,' wasn't it? Don't trifle with me, fox. You may have been a sly conman, but you're a cop now, and it's my job to know my officers."

Nick shrank so much that Mr. Big could have crushed him underfoot. And he would have welcomed it.

"Relax, you're not in trouble," Bogo sighed. "Everything you say here will stay between us."

The fox eyed the chief warily. "Hypothetically speaking, if I did need to have a talk with Officer Hopps… aren't there regulations about that kind of thing?"

"Luckily for you, I'm not such a stickler for the rules these days," the buffalo said with an inscrutable grin. "If I were, you and your partner would both be in prison for destruction of property."

Nick, fresh out of witty comebacks, sheepishly chewed on his straw.

Bogo's snout dropped into an embarrassed frown. "Sorry," he mumbled, "that sounded funnier in my head. Look, whatever the guidelines may be, I just want to ensure that the men under my command are operating at their absolute best. If some on-the-clock romance is getting the way of good police work, I will break it up like The Bleatles. But you have the opposite problem. You're so preoccupied with bottling up your emotions that your performance is suffering."

"How do you know I'm not just lazy?" the fox retorted, dismissively waving his bent and mangled straw.

"I told you, I'm good at reading cops. And my gut's telling me you'll crash and burn inside of a month if you don't get this thing off your chest."

Nick buried his muzzle in his paws. "Thanks a ton, Boss. You ought to be the spokesmammal for an online dating service."

"I'm not saying you have to date the bunny, Wilde. Just have a conversation with her. Even if nothing comes of it, I guarantee you that being honest will straighten out that head of yours."

"Unbelievable," Clawhauser growled as he suddenly slid into the seat beside Bogo. "Not a single Gazelle song on the jukebox."

"Don't take it personally, Benjamin," Bogo said, laying a supportive hoof on the rotund cat's shoulder. "That thing's had the same selection of songs since 1986."

"Aw, and now my pancakes are all soggy," the cheetah groaned, dejectedly poking at the dissolving, syrupy mass with his fork.

"Leave it. I'll whip you up a homemade batch later."

"You will?" Clawhauser purred, the dishes on the table clattering as he shook with barely-contained excitement.

"I'll even mix in those sprinkles you like. And we can set up our own private jukebox that plays nothing but Gazelle."

"Oooooohhhh, Chiiiieeeef," the feline squealed, squeezing Bogo's broad bicep.

The buffalo cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the fox. "Anyway, Wilde, don't put off that matter we discussed. Before you know it, you'll be old and bitter and lashing out at everyone who cares about you. It might take years for the right mammal to come along and pull you out of your funk. Are you starting to get the picture?"

Nick, clenching his jaw to keep it from hitting the table, nodded. "I believe I am, sir."

"Good," Bogo said. "Then you should get going."

"Oh, now?" Nick stammered. "Sure, but, uh, do you want me to throw in a few bucks for the tip, or…?"

"Move your tail, fox!" the chief barked.

By the time Nick's brain caught up with his feet, he'd already sprinted halfway to Judy's apartment. "Guess I might as well..." he wheezed, slowing his pace to a casual stroll as he dug his phone out of his pocket.

The rabbit answered before the second ring.

"Hey, Carrots," the fox said between gasps. "Mind if I drop in? I think we should chat about... well, about something kind of serious."

"Serious, huh?" asked his partner skeptically. "You sure that won't be too tough for you, Slick?"

"Believe me, darlin'," Nick chuckled, "compared the pep talk I just got from ol' Buffalo Butt, this'll be a piece of cake."