#vectorofhope

Any little partnership was more or less the means to an end. That next step to getting what he truly needed, whatever gain he could make. He’s had plenty of short partnerships where both animal was just in it for the gain, nothing more. And that’s all he wanted, all he needed. Nick didn’t have time to go out, find a date, find someone that he felt he could truly care for. Why bother? No one cared enough to even look his way without him waving something flashy around to catch an eye for the next scam. Not to mention he wouldn’t have the time, or means to keep it going if he was able to establish a connection with someone.

If Nick even wanted to try and find an relationship that didn’t depend on the constant flow of cash to keep them going, he wasn’t really sure what he’d be looking for. Something quick, most likely. He’s a fox made for cons, and cons mean time, time means money. So his lifestyle would have to be quick, in return so would his partners. They’d have to sort of work around a busy schedule of out witting unwitting animals. Even then, Nick wouldn’t be so sure anyone would even wanna try and make a connection with him if they understood what he did for the cash in his pocket, if he’d ever admit it. Only call he’d get back would be one from the ZPD, asking him to come in for questioning. So he’s scared of anything slow, serious, because it could end badly, or that’s how he’d see it. If he could find something quick, easy, and of course, somewhat meaningful, then sure, for the time being he’d allow it. Anything further, he’d cut ties. To much risk, nowhere near enough time, energy, or reward for trying to progress it anything further than maybe a small fling.

What he’d actually want.

He’d enjoy it slow, with someone he could truly get to know on a level deeper than just con partners. A relationship that wasn’t built on the drive of money, a hustle, con, scheme, anything of the sort, would be perfect for him. Nick didn’t need that, didn’t want that kind of drive between the two to be something he’d relied on for so many years. He didn’t want the promise, or goal, of cash or a successful con to be the only thing the two had, or did together, or even in a sense something he didn’t have to do at all! 

Nick doesn’t want to be the conman. Doesn’t feel like he should be the sketchy guy by the cooler of pawpsicles acquired through dirty means. But he was, and had been for a long time. 

Nick wanted out of that, and wanted someone who wouldn’t be in the same game as him. Someone who could pull him into a more normal, happy life, that didn’t require a scam.

He’d love someone that can make him feel calm, happy, content with where he is without constantly reminding him about the constant predicament that is cash flow. That had been a big driving point his entire life since he was young; whatever you can do to get the next dollar.

And he’d want an escape from that, maybe just for a little while, or even on more permanent terms if they truly could for him. The vulpine truly wants someone who can pull him from that life of con, the life he felt cemented into, that no jackhammer could ever break him from.

Someone that could break down those walls of his, free him from the chains that society held so tightly around his neck. Someone that didn’t need a hammer and chisel to get to the true Nick, somebody that could find the real Nick without some sort of bribe or otherwise dirty deed. A person that could instead do so with love, compassion, actual willingness to try and get to know him, to love him, without some end goal of their own. Where Nick is the end goal, the same as Nick would make for them.

Social Contact

He’s not picky about who he hangs out with. When you’re a species the city would much rather ignore than associate with, you’d have to take whatever you can get. It also doesn’t mean Nick doesn’t mind a little alone time, solitary time is always a good thing.

But when it comes to who he’s around, chatting with, whatever it may be. He enjoys someone who can match, or even beat, his own intellect. Someone who can keep up with the small, witty, puns he throws out now and then, someone who can snap back just as sharply. 

A deep inhale and swift flick of his tail were the only signs of agitation he gave, if his tail could cut he’d have gouged scars into his tiled floor by now. Besides his more than aggravated tail swinging, he was rather stone faced, a blank expression, save for a few gentle nose twitches now and then. 

‘Half an hour to closing... Right. On. Time.’

A small huff released the held breath, elbows propping against the edge of the counter, chin falling into his paws.

‘Don’t do it… He’s just trying to get a rise of ya..’

He didn’t mind Victor hanging around his shop now and then, he had no real reason to not allow it. To a point he enjoyed it, there weren’t many other people that really knew what was truly going on behind the guise of his cafe. So it was good to have a person that he felt truly understood. What really got to him with this situation is that this was supposed to be a trained killer, a fox that was known as the fucking Monster for goodness sake!

And here he was petting Shot.

‘He touched a stud… He touched my fucking studs!’

Hissing through a tightly grit teeth. “Victor, I’m gonna give you one last chance to remove your paws, and go back to the strawberries I so generously let ya have for free…” Deep breath, eyes shut as he slowly filled his lungs, trying his best to keep from flipping on this pawsy fox.. “Before I spike your coffee with Fox glove.”

‘That to much?… Eh…’

“I’m not sure, Victor..” He admit softly, ears falling as he once more bring back the thoughts that could keep him up for hours at night.. “I still resent myself for picking up that damned newspaper...  I just think if I hadn’t been so naive... Had stepped out before I had gotten to deep, witnessed one to many good people dropped beneath his floor boards... I...” The fox tap a claw on the counter top, obviously growing frustrated with the topic, more so with himself. “I just think if I had half the mind I do today... I could of done something different. Could of just... Burned the newspaper, I dunno... Tried to find a job that doesn’t have me holding hot items, or marking heads...”  He shrugged, not really understanding as to why he was asked this, but considered it was something Victor asked to just kill time.

“I wouldn’t consider this Cafe something to be admired.” Shot gave a quick nod towards the door, the gleaming neon red sign casting a harsh blood red glow on the snow that fell around it. “That’s the only thing I had a say on when it came to this place.” He didn’t really like discussing topics like this, stuff about his shop, or his life in general. Always left him in a sour mood. Though he really didn’t have anyone else to go to when it came to talking about his personal life. Go to Big and vent? Hah, fat chance. Show weakness to a mob boss? Better off just shooting yourself. And you can’t exactly talk about this stuff with just anyone! You’d be certain to expect some ZPD’s banging your door down within the next hour. So Victor’s his go to fox when it comes to this stuff.

“I’m lucky I wasn’t iced on the spot!” He exclaim, ears perking as he lean himself against the counter. “’Suppose the shrew still considers me a viable asset, still enough to let me use this cafe...” A lump formed in his throat, paws slowly formed fists as he once more came to the dull realization that no matter how far he tried to distance himself from the shrew. How normal a life he tried to live, it was all because of him. Never without that metaphorical leash around his neck. “I mean... Just look at you! You’re your own fox! You’ve made a real name for yourself... W-what was it?” He stammered, warm tears rising up, threatening to soak his cheeks. Revisiting his older days did that to the fox. You’d think a guy that had to bear witness to so many animals being dropped to the doom would be desensitized to this stuff by now... But he wasn’t... There were many things the shrew could take from him, but his sympathy, his moral? Not all of it... Twisted as it may be, he still had some.

“T-they call you... ‘The Demon’.. No, ‘The Monster’ right?” He questioned, ears perked as he scan the vulpine before him. Hard to imagine a single fox could single handily carve out such a name for himself, if anything that was to be admired... Or so Shot believed. A fox that could etch his name into the minds of prey, whether it be good or bad, he admired. “And well... With the strawberries... Not sure what to tell you on those! I hear they’re good though, right? That rabbit I hear about... I only hear so much from the grapevine of polar bears that decide to pop in now and then... What’s his name, I wanna say... Barren? That it? Anyways..” He didn’t know much of the other organization’s that worked around Zootopia, surely the one Victor was involved with. Hell, the only person from Victor’s organization that he truly knew was the fox himself! “Isn’t he like the groups berry farmin’ rabbit that let’s you have the strawberries? I mean, he’s gotta be pretty good for his name to circulate like that. Betcha your groups boss must be pretty fond of him to let him hang around like that.. What is he, a wolf?”