A/N: Sorry for the long-ish wait!
The tea is only mediocre. This upsets Howard, but not as much as the fact that Vince won't tell him what's going on. They're sitting at the old lady's dining room table, and Clarabelle, the fascinating old woman, is telling them a story about the "olden days" back out West.
The cat is lying on Vince's feet under the table. When he catches Howard looking at him, he mews noncommittally.
"…and my father, being a very hardworking gentleman…"
Howard stares at Vince across the table. Vince looks uneasy. Howard would very much like to comfort him and also slap him for keeping him in the dark.
Just as Howard begins to consider his options, and which one would look better in polite company, Vince stands up and says, "Excuse me, can I use your restroom?"
"Certainly," Clarabelle says. "It's just down the hall there." She points, then turns to look at Howard. Howard can see that Vince goes in the opposite direction. Finally, something's getting done. Hopefully.
"Where was I? Oh yes, my father had just built the new barn—I hope I'm not boring you, dear," Clarabelle says.
"Oh no, not at all," Howard says.
"Would you like more tea?"
Howard sighs. "No, I'm fine, thanks."
"If you insist. Well, the barn was red with white doors…"
It's a full half hour before Howard gets any word from Vince. Clarabelle has only stopped talking to take sips of her tea, and she seems to have totally forgotten about her other company. Howard receives a text from Vince which says, come to bathroom right now srsly now and that's all.
"Oh, dearie," Clarabelle says, "you must be bored; you're looking at your cellular gadget."
"No," Howard says quickly, "I just—need to use the bathroom."
"Oh, of course. It's just down the hall."
Howard pauses for a second to consider what he just said, realizes it made no sense but that the crazy old lady accepted his excuse anyway, and then powerwalks to the bathroom.
Vince is sitting on the floor with the cat, and it's then that Howard recognizes what Vince is doing: he and the cat are talking.
When Vince sees Howard come in, he stands up and says, "I didn't think it could be true, but Mr. Tinkles showed me. Howard, this is gonna sound crazy, but you've got to believe me, all right?"
Howard tilts his head, questioning, but he says, "Okay."
"There's a workshop—well, a sweatshop, really—in the basement. This woman has 18 cats down there, working in shifts, walking around in this huge wheel—it's like a hamster wheel, but way bigger—and they power her electricity. Howard, it's awful, they're skinny and mangy and they sleep in cardboard boxes—when they get to sleep. She invited us over because the neighbors were getting suspicious coz she's such a recluse."
The first thing Howard wants to do is laugh, but then he notices that Vince is starting to cry, and he immediately feels like complete shit. He's fairly certain he's never seen Vince cry before, and he hopes he'll never have to see it again, although there is a curious beauty to it, especially since Vince somehow manages to be very quiet and not even sniffle.
"Oh," Howard says, and he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around Vince, who is trembling slightly.
After a moment, Vince says, "This is ridiculous. I'm gonna ruin my makeup," and Howard knows he's okay, but he also knows that apparently, something must be done to remedy the situation.
Vince pulls away from Howard and says, "We're zookeepers. We have to do something. We've got to take those cats."
Howard blinks, processing. "Eighteen cats? We're just gonna take 18 cats and hide them?"
"Yeah," Vince says, like it's painfully obvious.
Howard thinks that Vince may be mentally unstable, and also knows he'd do anything for him. "Right, what's the plan, then?"
As it turned out, Clarabelle had been running this secret horror for a number of years, and was willing to surrender the cats if Vince and Howard promised not to turn her in.
"What is that newfangled thing you kids do?" she said. "Pinky swear?"
Vince went back to the basement and alerted the cats to the plan, and they agreed to follow him back. Mr. Tinkles, Clarabelle's favorite and the only non-worker, would stay with her because, "She needs some company or she'd go bat-shit insane," Vince relayed.
"Seems she's already done that," Howard muttered.
The cats are following behind them back to the apartment, which, coincidentally, has a strict no-cat rule. When they get there, Vince ushers them inside while Howard stands guard, glad they have a room on the first floor.
When the door has been closed and the cats are safely inside, there's nowhere to sit down.
"Vince," Howard says, "we can't keep them. You know that, right?"
Vince looks up at him and pouts. "But Nibbles here is well into Bowie!"
"There's no room for us!"
The cats, however, are happy to squeeze into a corner in order to make room for their rescuers.
"We're going to have to buy them food," Howard says after they've sat down on the couch. "Look at them, they're like little kitty twigs."
Vince laughs. "Yeah, we will. Sorry about today; I know we didn't get to work at all."
"Well, there is still time," Howard says, looking at his watch.
"That was a hint," Vince says.
"Oh."
Vince elbows him in the side, grinning, and Howard smiles. He thinks he could do this forever—not rescuing abused cats from insane old women, but sitting around with Vince, talking and smiling and perhaps eventually doing distinctly couple-y things, like crosswords out of the morning paper. Maybe when they're done working at the zoo—
"What're you thinking about?" Vince asks.
"Life," Howard says, shrugging.
"Well stop it, then, you should be thinking about me and how wonderful I am," Vince says.
Howard would like to say, "I was and you are," but it comes out as a series of mumbles against Vince's lips.
"Now you are for sure," Vince says after a moment, and Howard laughs. What else could possibly go wrong?