There was nothing quite like cruising through New York on a perfect afternoon. The sun was shining, the breeze was like a gentle, pleasant tickle on the back of your neck, and the streets, as usual, were bustling.

And for one little mouse, it was perfect.

Stuart Little, quite literally the littlest Little of the Little family, was enjoying a nice, casual drive along the sidewalk in his trusty modified toy red roadster. He knew he looked quite out of place amidst the tall humans going to and fro on foot, but it didn’t bother him any – in fact, he was quite proud to be who he was, and to have such a loving family who’d taken him in nearly… gosh, three years ago, now?

Perhaps the best part of it all was that, since it was a weekend, no school! Which meant he could drive as freely as he pleased… but only if he was back in time for lunch. His adoptive brother George was off with his friends today, and he had nothing else to do, so he figured he might as well take advantage of the nice weather where he could. Silver linings, as his dad taught him.

Maybe he could get in a few practice rounds of soccer with Snowbell, even if the sly white Persian cat was less than thrilled to be used as target practice.

His friend (or… well, girlfriend in a sense) Margalo was still away for the season, but with Spring on the horizon, Stuart was counting down the days until she came back up north, like she promised she would. The cheerful goldfinch may have been really far away, but that didn’t mean their friendship had to end. She’d be back soon enough, after all.

Once he drove past an alleyway, a rustling sound made the mouse’s ears perk up attentively and slow his car to a stop, looking over to where the sound had come from.

He couldn’t help being as curious as he was, honestly. It was one of his more… unique habits, going all the way back to his time in the orphanage. And as much as he’d been encouraged by his family to follow that curiosity, he knew when to reel it in.

Now was not one of those times.

Figuring it was worth a try, he slowly drove down the alley, keeping his sneaker-clad paw lightly pressing on the gas as he looked around this way and that, trying to nail down where he’d heard that noise.

Stuart knew the old adage of ‘don’t talk to strangers’ quite well, but in his mind, a stranger was just a friend you hadn’t met yet. Besides, he’d picked up some street smarts by now.

The car pulled further into the sidestreet, until finally he came across… a box. A very beat-up yet still sturdy-looking box, too. Small enough for an animal to live in.

Oh, dear.

Concern crossed Stuart’s features, his nose twitching almost instinctively. He hoped whoever was in there – if there even was anyone in there to begin with – was friendlier than Smokey and his gang… well, except Monty. He was nice. Yeah. If they were more like Monty, or even Snowbell? He could handle that. Anything else, and he was peeling off faster than an F1 racer.

They could be hurt, though. If so, then… then he could bring them home and have his parents help them, just like they did for Margalo when she was fleeing from the Falcon. Right?

Coming to a stop right in front of the box, the young mouse took a deep breath to steel his nerves, adjusted the cuffs of his sweater, and stepped out. He made sure to park close enough so that if this did go pear-shaped, he had an easy out.

His little hands wrung together nervously the closer he approached, brave as he tried to project himself as.

“U-Uh… hello? Is… is someone in there?” he tentatively called out, finding his voice. “It’s okay if there is, I’m… I’m not gonna chase you out, I promise. I, uh… I come in peace?”

…Maybe that worked better on TV. Nevertheless, he pressed on.

Another handful of steps later, and his gaze soon landed on the inhabitant of said box, who… oh, dear.

They didn’t look hurt, but… they didn’t look great, either.

Stuart fell silent for a moment, visibly taken aback, before a hard swallow sank down his throat.

“…Hi.” he meekly greeted, offering a small wave. “Are… are you okay?”