The Magnificent Mr. H.

The Magnificent Mr. H.

Prologue

A gaggle of young Zootopians sat in a semicircle in the city library, transfixed, as the mayor incumbent read aloud from his favorite book, The Great Catsby. On the periphery of the circle—but no less enthralled—sat Officer Judy Hopps, the Mayor's de facto security guard for the day. That is, she was the only one who was making an effort.

Nick Wilde sat at a table a few feet away, his back turned from the group, his presence further obscured by a nearby bookshelf. As much as he liked the Mayor—and he did—he couldn't wrap his head around why his friend kept dragging him to these artsy things. Well, to be fair, it wasn't all his fault; he'd been perfectly pleasant about it. Judy, on the other paw, reamed him out every chance she got, until he'd agreed to do it just to save his sanity.

He might not have minded if they hadn't wrapped up a huge case the night before. He'd been fine hauling the perps in at 3 in the morning, with adrenaline still keeping him alert, but then, thanks to the same, he'd hardly gotten any sleep before he'd had to drag himself out of bed for the next assignment...this one.

Nick bit back a laugh. Sam was lucky. She could get away with playing hooky, on account of she didn't like crowds, and—oh, that's right!--she was the Mayor's wife, and she could do as she pleased.

Nick pillowed his head on his forearm, releasing a long sigh that ended in a soft—but no less expressive—growl of frustration. Cheese and crackers, he was tired! But, like it or not, he had to pull himself together.

He suddenly realized, with a satisfied smirk, that this wasn't so bad after all. Chief over there was a natural reader. He could do worse than listen to this...In fact, he found it very relaxing…

Chapter I

When I was a kit, my mom gave me an interesting piece of advice: She said, “Nick, never be afraid of showing others how you feel”. That was right before my dream of becoming a Junior Ranger Scout blew up in my face. I don't blame Mom for saying those words; I don't blame myself for putting them into action that day. But that was all it took for me to start living the opposite of those words from there on out.

That's how I got on the streets. Out there, I knew everyone, but nobody really knew me unless I wanted them to. Not even my pal Finnick, who was the closest thing I had to family. That life suited me just fine. I would probably still be there if I hadn't discovered that ritzy apartment building on 49^th and 3^rd.

I tried to convince my buddy to come with me, but he wasn't having it. Here's the thing about Finn: he's a slob. He lives in a beat-up old van that he parks in an alley, junk food in all stages of rot and other unmentionables everywhere. I'm no neatnik, but he makes me look like Cleocatra or something. Sometimes he even called me 'Princess'--I bet to make us even for all the times I made him dress up in that elephant suit. But, hey—can't a guy rock a dress shirt and tie once in awhile? Okay, a lot. But it's my thing.

I guess walking that line between the high life and the dregs of society had me thinking I could somehow sneak into the building, plant myself in a posh penthouse, and I'd be set for life. With this in mind, one day I said 'adios' to Finn, sauntered up to those giant, fancy glass doors, and walked in like I owned the place.

I got too cocky. (You will never hear me say that again, so I hope you enjoyed it.) The guards busted me and threw me out on my tail. I'd forgotten the most important rule of hustling—you actually have to hustle if you want to get somewhere. I walked around the block, mulling over a good cover story as I went. I thought of one—though I can't for the life of me remember what it was—and prepared myself to face those two doofuses again.

Hustling is 95% sweat, 4% blood, and 1% luck. You have to be on top of your game, prepared to fight dirty...and hot. Looks aside, that day I was golden. The changing of the guard had gone down while I was AWOL, and there were two new doofuses at the door, ripe for buying Nick Wilde's brand-spanking-new whopper.

Except they didn't. I literally had one foot in the door when they grabbed both my arms...Then, just like that, I saw him. A tall, elegantly dressed stallion with round-rimmed glasses. Our eye contact lasted just a nanosecond, but I saw something I hadn't seen since I left home: compassion. The next thing I knew...

“Guys, it's all good. He's with me.” The guards let go. I fell forward, flat on my face...But at least I landed on the plush welcome mat in the doorway. Yeah, that's right—there was a welcome mat in this gazillion-dollar high-rise. Knowing what I know now, that went a long way toward explaining what I was about to get into.

As I got up--smoothing out my tie and absently rubbing the abrasion on my nose—I heard the stallion say, “Sorry about that. Good to see you!” 'It's good to see you, too,' I thought—and I didn't even know his name.

Chapter II

His name, he told me, was Herb. He said between that and his being a horse, most people called him 'Mr. H'. Between you and me...One, I'm pretty good at reading people. Two, I don't sugarcoat stuff. So, it comes down to this; right off, I could tell that Herb was the embodiment of everything I straight-up hated, the same things I thought I'd spent my life getting away from out on the streets.

But it didn't start out that way. Like I said...I was a simpleminded kit once, and it wasn't just—bang!--I'm a con-artist now. If you're as hardcore a hustler as I was, you have to be up to your ears in lies, filth, and solitude before you can admit you've had enough. Herb basically offered me an out on a silver platter. I'd've been stupid not to take it.

So, yeah...The silver platter thing wasn't a joke. He took me up to his place, and it was...whoa. Five times the size of my apartment growing up—at least. State-of-the-art everything. Paintings on the walls, glass knicknacks on the tables. And, when the elevator opened—yep, private elevator—there was the biggest chandelier I had ever laid eyes on; Finn would have loved taking it for a spin!

Where the heck was I?...Right. The place was amazing. He showed me around, offered me something to eat—hands-down, the best tofu I'd ever eaten—and handed me the keys to the apartment next door that had just opened up. (Did I mention that he actually did own the place?!) The tenant had opted to pack her bags and move back to Bunnyburrow. I was on a roll!

That had to be one of the best days of my life. I knew I could trust Herb to be straight with me, but what I didn't know was if I could trust myself to do the same. I was mulling this over as he shook my paw and said, “Take care, Nick. I'll see you around.” Then, right before he shut the door between us, he added, “I'm watching you.” I knew he meant that he trusted me, too, and expected me to hold up my end of the bargain. He meant business. We'd both been thinking the same thing, but it felt like more than that...It felt like he could see into my soul.

Chapter III

My new place wasn't as flashy as Mr. H's, but it was pretty darn close. The mystery tenant—who I figured must've been a bunny, and knew for sure when I walked in that night and smelled rabbit everywhere—went to her parents' and left it as-is, furniture and all. I was good with that.

I had it all to myself. I would sprawl on the couch and think, 'this is the life', take a deep breath, sigh...and wonder about the bunny who left all this for her sorry podunk, leaving behind nothing but furniture...and her scent.

Who was she? Why did she up and leave? How would I ever get her sweet, fruity, slightly earthy scent out of my head? And why did I not want to?

I was thinking more of the same the day a card slipped through my mail-slot. It was addressed to 'Nicholas Wilde'--not Nick—in too-tidy penmanship; even the envelope was fancy! This was weird, because I couldn't think of anyone who would send me a card, and nobody knew my address, except...I tore open the envelope.

My hunch was spot-on; it was from Mr. H. Apparently he held a “weekly building-wide soiree” on Saturdays, and yours truly was invited. There it was—another offer I couldn't refuse.

But I didn't spend all that time on the streets without picking up a few things. It seemed fishy to me that Mr. H. would throw these parties every week just because. He didn't seem like that kind of guy. He was very friendly—and way too generous for his own good—but mostly, he kept to himself. I had a hard time believing that he was a showoff. If it were me? Absolutely; but him? There was no way. I knew there had to be a reason why he put them on, and I made it my mission to find out what it was.

Every Saturday night, I entered into what became my self-imposed grind: Go to party. Mingle a little. Nonchalantly eat as much as you can handle. (Okay, so it wasn't totally a grind…) Scan—and sniff—the room for that bunny, in case she decided to come back. And, the big one—spy on Mr. H. for clues about the M.O. behind these blowouts.

I always came away stumped. Sure, my ego took a hit—What kind of hustler can't get info when he needs it?!--but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that whenever Mr. H. saw or spoke to someone, he would smile...but when he didn't think anybody was watching, he would look more down in the mouth than anyone I'd ever seen, even on the streets.

Here's the thing--I'd had my doubts about Mr. H., but I couldn't not like the guy; he's a good egg. Somehow, it busted me up inside seeing him like that. He'd done me a solid by letting me into this place, and I started to think maybe now was the time to return the favor. Problem was, I didn't know where to begin.

That all changed one day when Mr. H. gave me a call. It must've been mid-week, because I was still sleeping off party vibes. He said he wanted me to come over that night so he could show me something. We agreed to meet at 7:00.

When seven rolled around, I showed up at his door. We schmoozed for a bit, and then headed for the elevator. When we stepped out those doors, I thought I was tripping. I knew Mr. H. had dough, but—this was awesome. He'd converted the roof into his own private hideaway. There was a huge pool in the middle, with a lounge area on one side, and a cluster of—old video games?--on the other.

I was blown away. I told him as much. I hoped he wouldn't be insulted when I added, “I don't picture you as much of a gamer.” It wasn't a dis—I really was surprised. I should've known that he would laugh it off.

“I'm not,” he said. “It's...Let's take a look, shall we?” So, we moseyed over there, and it turned out to be…

“Surveillance cameras? Up here?!” That's when I realized that the scenes in front of me weren't showing the building, but some farm I'd never seen before in my life. They weren't just cameras, either. It was some kind of elaborate GPS deal, with flashing lights in a bunch of different colors. It was sensory overload big-time, but something did catch my eye. There was a green light, with a heart drawn around it; next to that were the words, 'L. Farm'. For all the ways I'd occasionally failed at hustling, my instincts were always legit; I knew this had to be the M.O. I'd been looking for.

Chapter IV

After that went down, we sat in the comfy chairs, looked out at the city lights, and talked. Really talked, the way friends who aren't outrageously selfish former hustlers talk. I told Mr. H…you've heard it all. And he told me some pretty amazing stuff.

He said that, once in awhile, he goes out to the country. Sometimes, he needs to get away from all the materialistic mess. I didn't know what to make of this at first: I mean, I lived pretty minimalist for years—obviously—but I do have a taste for fancy stuff. And he…? Didn't that make him part of the problem? I wanted to hear him out, but, hey—I call it like I see it.

“You're absolutely right, Nick. That does make me a hypocrite.” He sighed. “But, you know—I only started going out there in the first place to get fresh produce for the parties.” I nodded, waiting for him to go on. “I stumbled across this stand—Lapin Farm, it was called. The rabbit running it...” He paused and sighed, seeming to relive the memory. “Stunning. The most stunning creature I have ever seen.”

Whoa. I don't know what I was expecting to hear, but that sure as heck wasn't it. Mr. H.--calm and collected as all-get-out—was worked up over some girl?! Even I would never do that, and I'm...me. They don't call me Wilde for nothing.

I'm a first-rate smooth-talker, but for once in my life, it took an effort to choose my words carefully. “Let me get this straight. You—ah—took a shine to—a bunny, and now you're spying on her.” My plan to tread carefully went out the window with that last part. He winced. “Look, that came out wrong. I mean, I was a hustler, for crying out loud! I should talk!”

My mea culpa seemed to help Mr. H. overcome his embarrassment, and he smiled slightly. “Thank you, my friend.” He kept going. “Her name was Samantha, but everyone called her Sam. Every time I needed vegetables, I went back there. I was sure she loved me as much as I loved her, but then one day she said we couldn't see each other anymore. I thought maybe it was because her family didn't approve of interspecies relationships. She promised me it wasn't that, but she wouldn't tell me what it was.” He sighed again, swiped a hoof across his face. “I wish it had been an interspecies problem; that would have been easier to swallow.”

The still-unanswered question hung in the air. So then why did she turn you down? “I couldn't take it. I kept tracking her down until she gave me a straight answer. She'd figured out who I was and didn't want to live the way I do. She said she would never leave the farm, that she loved it too much.” He paused again, took a deep breath. “Rationally, I understood; I'd gone out there for similar reasons. It was what she didn't say that broke my heart. She'd never told me she loved me because...” Now he started to sob; I felt sorry for the poor guy, but all I could do was wait it out. “She didn't love me enough.” The way he said that word was the closest I'd ever heard him get to a curse.

Once he'd pulled himself together, I could still see the pain in his eyes, but also the resolve to keep his cool. “Love, Nick. That's what happened, and it's the reason for the parties, the spying, everything.” That explained a lot. He didn't say much about her after that, but I put two and two together. He threw the parties to impress her, hoping she'd hear about what a big deal he was, change her mind, and give him another shot.

After that, I changed my tune about the whole thing. So what if Mr. H. liked this girl? He was still one mighty fine mammal—but, seriously, in a word? Magnificent--maybe even because he did, and thought enough of me to tell me all about it.

Chapter V

“I started looking for a different stand then.” Mr. H. didn't have to tell me that then really meant after she dumped me. “That's when I remembered the Hoppses.” When I raised my eyebrows in question, he said, “Didn't I tell you? They're Judy's family.” I was still lost.

“Who's Judy?” He smiled apologetically at the oversight.

“Judy is the one who lived in the apartment before you.” My mind was officially blown.

That was Judy? The bunny whose lingering scent made her seem tantalizingly close, even though in reality she'd hightailed it back to the suburbs? Judy, who, even though I had no clue what she looked like, had somehow managed to slip into my dreams at night?

It took everything I had not to let on what that did to me; I would 'fess up eventually, but I couldn't bring myself to put all my cards on the table just yet. I played it casual. “What's she like?”

“She's terrific; her whole family is. She was a police officer with the ZPD. She might still be; I'm not sure if she officially retired.”

“Why did she leave? Is she on an extended vacay, or did something happen?”

“I don't know; she never told me. But since I've been going to Hopps Farm, we've become good friends, and there doesn't seem to be anything amiss.”

“But no explanation.” Mr. H. shook his head.

“For what it's worth, I don't think there's anything going on. If living in the city has taught me anything, it's that mammals like to gossip, and make a big deal out of anything that isn't.” I could see that; I'd dealt with my share of pushy, petty mammals...and, what it all came down to was...I'd been one of them. Out there, it's every mammal for himself; we live to make each other miserable. Mulling over Mr. H.'s words, I felt like a world-class jerk. I was so down that I didn't see what was coming.

“Cheer up, my friend.” Mr. H. is such a salt of the earth kind of guy that at one point, I wondered if he called everybody that. But I was starting to see that he wasn't this big-shot extrovert with a million friends, not really; that was just for show...But the friends he did have, he cared a lot about. And—I was one of them. Even though I wasn't sure that I deserved to be. He smiled. “We all make mistakes. Now, as I was saying...Personally, I'm inclined to think Judy was just homesick, seeing as rabbits cherish their farms and all...” I swallowed my pride and did the decent thing...looked guilty—because, let's face it, I was—for making him dredge up his past again.

But he handled it like a champ. “I've been around the block a few times myself, young tod, and it hasn't escaped my notice that you have designs on Judy.” Kudos to Mr. H. for being so darn perceptive, but...Seriously! How did he know this stuff?! And he'd turned the tables on me!

There was no doubt about it...Well, them. One being that, when he felt like it, talking to Mr. H. was like negotiating with another hustler. He anticipated everything, and often I got a hefty dose of my own medicine. Two was the fact that, yes, I would enjoy getting to know Judy...in all the ways Mr. H. so cleverly suggested, but also the less—intimate—ones.

Me and Mr. H. had been chummy before that crazy night on the rooftop, but after that, we were thick as thieves. (I know what you're thinking-- 'ironic, Nick, considering your former so-called line of work, and the fact that your friend is a harbinger of sugar, spice and everything nice!') Neither of us said a word about each other's pasts, and we were regular party animals. (Hypothetically, you were right on the money before, so it should come as no surprise to you that the latter was mostly me.) When it was just us chilling, I was Wilde—Nick Wilde—helping him play spy. And—get this!--sometimes Judy would visit to Sam's farm to chat! Life couldn't get any better.

Chapter VI

It did, though. Get better, I mean. All that time with Mr. H. was unbelievable, but at least the high life was on my bucket list. On the other paw--if, say, five years ago, somebody told me that I would end up with a bunny, I'd've said they were nuts. But it would take awhile before the ripple effect of Mr. H's choices blew over.

Here's how it all went down: One day, Mr. H. decided the next party would be a masquerade ball, to prove once and for all that it didn't matter if Sam showed up. To top it all off, he said that after this bash, he was throwing in the towel. At first, that came as a major shock to me. But it took all of two seconds for me to wise up and realize that it was all a load of fancy vegan bologna.

I knew that Mr. H. meant every word he said, but...I could tell this was something that he thought he was going to do, and felt he should do so he could move on, yet I knew him well enough that I saw otherwise; he was going through the motions, hoping like heck that his luck would change, and all of that effort would be worth something.

Saturday. I was all dressed up with nowhere to go—not yet. It was less than five minutes before I'd be headed out the door for the party; I was sure I'd end up wearing a hole in the floor. By now Mr. H. had given my measurements to his tailor, and I had I brand-spanking-new suit that I wore to the parties. He wouldn't take no for an answer.

It was bad enough that Mr. H. picked up the tab—even though that was nothing new—but he'd asked me if I wanted a different suit for every week! Can you believe that?! I'd gotten used to him spotting me for necessities, but a guy like me doesn't need a gazillion suits. Still, the one I did have made me look pretty sharp, and I enjoyed wearing it...usually. But today, I couldn't stop worrying about Mr. H.

I was convinced that Sam wasn't going to show. There weren't a lot of bunnies on the streets. What's that got to do with anything? Bunnies have a high moral character. They're all about family, neighborliness, and general good vibes. Paws down, Mr. H. is the same, but it wouldn't surprise me if certain bunnies—probably including Sam, if she hated attention as much as he said she did—wouldn't let the cameras, et cetera, slide.

And, no doubt about it, that would tear Mr. H. to pieces. So there I was, pacing the floor of my apartment, wondering what I was going to do about it. But it looked like my paws were tied.

Chapter VII

I stuck close to Mr. H. that night, for moral support. He hadn't asked me to, but I owed him at least that much. The turnout was impressive; it was like all of Mammal Gras had packed itself into Mr. H.'s pad, and then some.

I was wandering around—even starting to enjoy myself—when I stopped right in my tracks. There, across the room, was a bunny with an elaborate half-mask covering part of her face. Even without the extra clues, the eyes gave her away. I saw those eyes everywhere from the first second I'd spotted them on the cameras, a world away…

Judy. She was here. Her and her endless violet eyes, so magnetic I could feel their pull tempting me away from Mr. H. I was vaguely aware of the thought that, no, I couldn't stop myself from going to her any more than I could keep Mr. H. from suffering over Sam. And if Sam was half as gorgeous as Judy, we were both goners. The next thing I knew, I was over there, chatting her up and turning up the old Wilde charm (--because it's never truly off).

But before I'd said a word to her, I glanced over my shoulder to check on Mr. H. He was talking to someone and hadn't even noticed I'd left. After that, I put him out of my mind; it wasn't hard to do, since Judy was rapidly taking up space in my brain, and...You get the picture.

I must've spent hours talking to Judy, but it seemed like measly minutes later when I spotted Mr. H. trying to flag me down. I was teed off—until I read the urgency on his face, and started to panic. I promised Judy I'd be right back—without really knowing if I would be, but willing it to work out with everything I had.

We met in his living room, off-limits to the hoopla. “What's up?” I asked him, struggling to keep my tone light.

“Help me hide the cameras, Nick—Please!” So much for my pretense of calm.

“What?! Now?! Why?!”

“Sam's here, and...!” My jaw dropped. 'And'?! As if it could get any worse than that.

“I think she brought Judy with her!” Sap of a birch! I hadn't even thought of that. How was I supposed to know they were in cahoots?! I thought they just lived in the same town and talked casually, like—like bunnies do! But, no—for all we knew, they were best friends and told each other everything! Or relatives! Bunnies have pretty big extended families, so that was possible, too. Sap. Of. A. Birch.

We took off. Lucky for us, there was another elevator in that room, so we didn't have to wind our way back through the chaos to make our escape. Once we got up there, we made a beeline for the cameras. We managed to get them unhooked, but just as we were about to heft them up and get the heck out of there, the elevator dinged.

Nobody had seen us come up here. Nobody had been in the living room with us, and the party was so packed that nobody would have seen which way we went in the first place. There weren't any super-small mammals around, either. So if anyone saw us and followed us up here, they'd have to be about the size of, say...a bunny.

Two bunnies. With two pairs of big, bright, saucer-like eyes that had 'suspicion', 'hurt', and 'betrayal' written all over them. We were doomed.

Chapter VIII

Everything after that went in slow-motion. Sam took the right side of the pool, Judy the left, and marched towards Mr. H. and me. They glared at us like we were deviant kits, not a couple of hardened--if hapless—hustlers.

I watched Sam grab Mr. H. by the hoof, right before Judy yanked me by the paw. Then they turned around again, heads held high, and led us back to the chairs, which they all but shoved us into, and then—on the off chance they hadn't made themselves clear—plopped themselves onto our laps...as if we'd be going anywhere.

Judy spoke first. “It was such a pleasant surprise to get an invitation from my friend Herb to attend a party at my old stomping grounds.” Her tone dripped accusation. “I was so excited to go. But then I remembered that my friend Sam had broken up with him, and I'd been so busy at the farm, I hadn't had a chance to ask her why. So I went to see her, and that's what I did.” Suddenly she decided to stand on my stomach, and the action seemed to fuel her fire.

“She said she was afraid he'd start pulling rank on her, and she mentioned worrying that he'd do something outrageously egotistical to get her back.” As she scowled at each of us in turn, I realized I was holding my breath. “I told her there was no way he'd be like that. I said he'd been nothing but nice to me when I lived here, so I was glad when he decided to come to our farm. I assured her that he was really a good guy.”

“I said, 'come to the party with me, Sam, and you'll see.'” She face-pawed. “Cheese and crackers, fellas, you have a lot of explaining to do!” She sat down hard, almost knocking the wind out of me.

“Oof!” But that didn't begin to describe the trouble we were in.

“Why did you do it, Herb?” Sam's voice. Much different than Judy's—softer, and where hers had been firm and confident, Sam's was cautious and pleading. For the first time since we'd been ambushed, my friend and I exchanged glances.

“Go for it,” I said; we had nothing left to lose.

He did. He told her the whole story—and lost it again, poor guy. I knew I had to own up to my share, so I told Judy about my past, and about everything Mr. H. had done for me. It wasn't easy, thinking that any second they'd decide they were done with us and turn tail for good. But it worked.

Sam and Mr. H. had a classic case of crossed wires; they were still crazy about each other. Judy, on the other paw, couldn't get enough of the foxy goodness that is yours truly—still can't, for that matter. And who could blame her?!

So, yeah. They forgave us, and they stayed—for good. For the rest of the night, we sat with bunnies on our laps and admired the sprawling, twinkling city below. Forget what I said before—this was what life is all about.

It took me a long time to completely understand why Mr. H. is the way he is. But, that night, I got it, really got it. Sometimes, when you care about someone, you have to put everything on the line. He's like that...not just for Sam, but all the time. He's always in the here and now, and nothing stops him from keeping it real. He knows that now, and sees that it's—not just a strength, but a kind of superpower...One that he should have never stopped using. Thanks to him, I feel the same. Still, this isn't just—or even mostly—about me. I've said it once, but I'll say it again, even if it makes me sound corny and downright ridiculous...That mammal is truly magnificent.

Epilogue

“Nick! Nick! Nick!” Groggy, the fox awoke to Judy jostling his shoulder. “Herb's coming over! Snap out of it!” Sure enough, as Nick blinked the world into focus again, he noticed the mayor standing over him with an amused smile.

“Sleep well, Nicholas?”

“I—ah, actually...”

“No harm done, my friend. I seem to be an expert on boring everyone to sleep.” Judy was mortified.

“Not at all! It's not like that! It's…!” The poor rabbit could have easily given herself whiplash as she alternated reassuring, apologetic glances at Herb with desperate, dagger-throwing glances at Nick. Carrots didn't get mad easily; that's how Nick knew he was in for it. He had to help her out of this one.

“Listen to Carrots. I wasn't bored...not for long, anyway. We were out on a case really late last night. The reading was awesome; you should be a librarian.” Although Herb relaxed slightly, he was still clearly on the fence. “Believe it or not, I was paying attention, because I had this dream...” Nick recounted it in minimal detail, but even that was enough for Judy to smile wide, eyes laughing, and Herb to look over his shoulder in surprise, as though he was certain Nick had been talking to—and about—someone else. The gesture itself was in jest, but his words were anything but.

“Me, 'The Magnificent Mr. H.?!” Nick smiled—genuinely—for a split second before he let it disappear behind a smirk.

“Sure you are. Why else do you think I would haul myself to yet another fancy to-do?” Nick rolled his eyes. “I don't let some dumb bunny order me around...” From where he sat, he was about level with Judy, so he didn't hesitate to put his arm around her. “Even if she does look pretty”--here, he paused, glanced around surreptitiously— “cute when she gets her way. You—the both of ya—are too good for this dumb fox.”

“Nobody calls my friend Nick a dumb fox except me!” Judy teased, hugging him. Herb smiled.

“Nick, my friend...In actuality--make no mistake about it—you're the incomparable one.” Nick knew otherwise; after all, if Herb wasn't so—what was the word he'd heard in his dream?--magnificent--he would never have said such a thing.