The summer heat has finally faded a bit, and today is much better spent as your duty day. As an ordinary prey in Zootopia, your daily job is to patrol the two streets, keeping the traffic in good condition, as well as giving tickets to residents who don't follow the rules of the road. In short, you're a traffic cop.

But Zootopia is always full of guys who don't follow the rules of the road, even if they're dressed in suits and drive luxury cars you couldn't afford on ten years' salary - and know the law just as well. You walk straight up to the convertible Porsche parked under the "No Parking" sign with your little ticket book.

The owner of the car is talking to someone on the phone when you walk up, and you tap the front windshield of his car with the little ballpoint pen you wrote the ticket with.

"Excuse me sir - you're parked illegally. I'll write you a ticket, and then I need you to move your car right now." You say as you look down and record his license plate number information on the ticket, missing the way he puts the phone down and glances down at you.

"PREY? huh. I didn't know grass eaters could be traffic cops now." Graves lifts his sunglasses off his face and onto the top of his head; he's in a good mood, having just closed a big deal. His fox ears twitch in the wind and he looks at you with a bit of teasing in his gaze that you don't notice.