Howard is sitting in the armchair, looking up words in the dictionary. Well, not words, just one word in particular.
confidence (n) 1: trust, reliance 2: self-assurance, boldness 3: a state of trust or intimacy
"What are you doing?"
Howard jumps. "Reading the dictionary?" It sounds like a question. How long has Vince been standing there?
Vince grins cheekily at him. "Are you looking up naughty words, Howard? You know, you can ask me if there's something you want to know. You don't have to look in the dictionary."
"No! No, it's not that," Howard says. He's starting to blush. Why? You haven't done anything remotely embarrassing!
"Sure," Vince drawls. "I believe you." He moves closer to the armchair. Howard instinctively recoils a little.
"Vince, we have to talk about something," he says.
"What?" Vince isn't grinning anymore, but he's trying to look upbeat.
"Well…" Howard wrings the dictionary in his hands and is promptly disgusted with himself for beginning to harm a book. "Remember yesterday, when I called you a shitbox?"
Vince raises an eyebrow. "Yes…?"
"I'm sorry," Howard says. He's trying to look Vince in the eyes, but shame is leading his eyes downward towards his feet.
Vince is continuing to give him a quizzical look. "For what?"
"For saying that! Granted, I did precede it with 'I love you,' which should have rendered it an inoffensive term of endearment. Still—"
Now Vince understands. "Howard," he says, cutting him off, "please be quiet now."
"I just don't—" but Vince leans down and promptly shuts him up.
"Confidence," Howard says when they break apart. Somehow, Vince has managed to maneuver himself onto the armchair and into Howard's lap without ever breaking their kiss. That takes talent.
"What?"
"That was what I was looking up." Howard is still trying to catch his breath, so the words come out strained and odd-sounding.
"What," Vince says, "to see if you've got it?"
"I guess."
There's a pause while they stare at each other. Howard tries to wring his hands, but finds that he can't, because they're clutching the back of Vince's shirt.
A light begins to flash on the laptop, which is sitting on the floor in front of them. Howard stares at it, contemplating.
"What are you looking at?" Vince asks.
"The laptop's flashing," Howard says noncommittally. "What do you suppose Fossil wants to tell us?"
"Ugh, can we not talk about him right now? Or ever?" Vince twists sideways and places his head against Howard's chest.
Howard is definitely not getting the laptop.
Eventually, they leave the armchair after deciding that they may actually have to do some work. Well, the decision was Howard's; Vince just grudgingly agreed. Nevertheless, Howard opens the laptop and attempts to contact Fossil. Vince is sitting next to him, eating his creepy face-toast. (Although Howard eats it now, it never ceases to frighten him.)
Fossil's face appears on the screen, huge and terrifying. Vince chokes on his toast and attempts to cover it up.
"Why did you ignore me earlier? I have important information for you!" Fossil yells.
"Sorry, we were…in the other room," Howard says.
"THERE IS NO OTHER ROOM!" Fossil screeches. "Unless you meant the bathroom, in which case, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!"
Vince elbows Howard in the side and snorts. "Good one."
"Anyway," Howard says, ignoring him, "what's the information, then?"
"The information is that I bought a parrot!"
Vince and Howard say nothing. After a moment, Howard says, "Is that all?"
"Yeah, isn't it great? Also, GET TO WORK!" The window closes.
"Productive man, isn't he?" Howard says. Vince nods.
It's not until after they've left the apartment that Howard realizes wearing their Zooniverse uniforms outside makes people give them strange looks.
"I can't believe this," Vince says. "I mean, I'm not a fan of this uniform either, but that doesn't mean I should be mocked for it!"
"I agree, little man. Nevertheless, it is our duty as zookeepers to carry out our mission while in the proper attire."
"Please stop, or I'll really give them something to stare at us for."
Howard frowns. Vince laughs. "Let's just do this, okay? Where's Betty now?"
Howard looks around. "…Is that her? Running along the side of that house?"
Vince stares. "Maybe." There's a pause, and then they run.
The shrew, upon seeing their approach, runs under a porch step just as Howard and Vince reach the house.
"How can we know if it's her or not?" Vince asks.
"The tracking device," Howard says. He pulls what appears to be a walkie-talkie out of his pocket. "The portable version," he says when Vince gives him a questioning look.
"Of course," he says.
Howard points the needle of the machine at the porch step. Nothing happens.
"I guess that's not the right one," he says.
Vince sighs. "Too bad. This mission would have ended very quickly."
"Hello, boys," a shaky voice says from the direction of the house. There's an old lady dressed in a floral-print gown standing on the porch. "Can I help you?"
"Oh," Howard says.
"No thanks," Vince cuts in quickly. "We're just—" He stops as a cat emerges from around the corner of the house.
"Oh, Mr. Tinkles," the woman says. The cat in question walks over and winds itself around Vince's legs, purring.
"Oh God," Vince says after a moment.
"What?" Howard asks.
But before Vince has a chance to respond, the old woman says, "Mr. Tinkles likes you! Oh, you must come in for some tea."
"Oh, well, that's very kind of you, but we're working right now; can't take any breaks—"
The woman waves a hand. "Nonsense. Come on in."
Howard looks at Vince. Vince looks down at the cat, nods, and then points to the house. "We have time, Howard. Let's have some tea."
Howard blinks. Vince's eyes look…pleading?
"All right," he says, and they both walk up the porch steps, the old lady repeating "Delightful!" over and over as they make their way inside. The cat is clinging to Vince's legs, nearly causing him to trip.
As Vince and Howard walk through the door of the house, Vince hisses into Howard's ear, "We have a problem."