They spend a few minutes of the quieter evenings poring over pictures posted on adoption sites.

"Wie süß!" Angela will say, tapping a photo so it fills the whole of the phone screen. "She is cross-eyed, this one."

Fareeha will tilt her head into Angela's shoulder, squinting a little. "Cute enough, for a cat."

"I thought your ancestors admired cats," Angela will muse, returning to her endless scrolling. Her eyelids droop after a busy day, but she never blinks, she won't miss even one of the feline faces available for review.

Fareeha will kiss her temple, settle comfortably down into the bed. "What can I say, I'm a modern woman."

Sometimes Fareeha will be on site with Helix Securities when her phone vibrates. A text. In a minute, another text. Three minutes later and another.

Angela, no doubt.

When Fareeha gets a break, she'll dig her phone out and confirm her suspicions.

13:17 This one! [The attachment is of an unbrushed, snaggle-toothed shadow with eyes that glow with a demonic light.]

13:18 We could call him Roadhog [A stubby-legged, pot-bellied tabby.]

13:22 THIS ONE! [The kitten has a wide, vacant stare and a lolling pink tongue.]

Fareeha will text something quick back before resuming her post.

15:27 So many to choose from, eh? How will you ever pick just one?

15:27 You're supposed to be helping me, mein Schatz. ;p

Then there's the spare moment in the office between assignments, where Fareeha will prop her chin in her hand and scan the adoption pages herself just to pass the time.

She'll forward a link to Angela, who never seems to be far from an internet-ready device.

To: Angela Ziegler

Subj: This one?

Attachment: newarrival_

~1 year old. Rescued from a hoarder last week.

To: Fareeha Amari

Subj: RE: This one?

Attachment: newarrival_

What a darling! How about her brother, though? Looks like he could use some TLC after surviving those dreadful conditions. D: Poor dears.

To: Angela Ziegler

Subj: RE: This one?

Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm starting to think you only are interested in - how shall I say it - the broken ones?

To: Fareeha Amari

Subj: RE: This one?

Anyone can find it in their heart to love a healthy, happy pet whose only fault is not having been loved enough by someone else. The "broken" ones need love, too.

To: Angela Ziegler

Subj: RE: This one?

I understand.

Eventually, they find the time to visit a shelter in person.

The staff show them cat after kitten, cute ones and shy ones and rolly-polly ones and feisty ones. Long-hairs and short-hairs, calicos and tortoise-shells, Siamese and Scottish Folds.

Each one of these would find a perfect home with them, but as lovable as they are, Fareeha watches Angela out of the corner of her eye and knows that none of these is the right one.

Finally Angela sighs and hands the shelter staff the purring white fluffball they've been visiting with.

"That's about it for our adoption-ready cats," she says, bundling the cat into a crate. "Did you want to see any of them again?"

Angela's is about to politely decline, but Fareeha holds up a hand. "You say 'adoption-ready' as if you have cats that are not?"

The staff woman pauses. "I can't bring them out because they refuse to be handled by strangers. But I suppose I could take you back to see them, if you dare."

Angela's eyes are bright and Fareeha takes her by the hand.

Walls of stainless steel cubbies house a variety of furry things that peer out at them from behind the bars. Past all these is a quieter corner with fewer occupied spaces than empty, and Fareeha stops short in front of one of these.

"Oh!" their escort calls, seeing what's kept them. "We call him The Captain. Salty old devil. He came in half-dead after a vicious fight with something bigger than him, but he held on against all odds. I will warn you that it'll take a mountain of attention and devotion to turn him back into a housecat."

The Captain hunches in his cell, glaring at them from his one remaining eye. He's old and creaky as he limps forward to sniff at the fingers Fareeha pokes past the bars. Angela, too, tentatively offers a hand, and The Captain is obliged to receive a gentle chin scratch.

The staff woman whistles, impressed. "Oookay. Maybe all he needs is the right home."

"This one?" Angela asks.

"This one," Fareeha agrees.