"That looks disgusting," America says, quite cheerfully, and sets the dish down on the floor, along with a bowl of water. The kitten pads over, sniffs it, and then yowls in a way that sounds like agreement.

"I bet it tastes great," he encourages, and pulls out his phone as the kitten takes a tentative first bite.

He scrolls through his contacts list quickly, flicking his thumb across the screen until it hovers over 'Arthur -Home', and he hits the call button before he can change his mind. It starts ringing, and then it continues ringing, and then a minute has gone by and Oliver is staring at him again.

"He's not picking up. Huh... I'll call his cell."

The kitten huffs.

"Mobile, yeah, whatever," America chuckles, and for a second something like a frown flashes across his face, but then there's England's voice on the line and, "Hey, England--! oh. Voicemail."

He stares down at his phone, a crease between his brows and his lips tight, but then he shrugs it off and it transforms into a grin as the kitten is still watching him.

"The old man has probably lost it, or something, ha. Was that good?" The bowl is clean, but Oliver doesn't look particularly pleased. He stalks off with his tail in the air, heading towards the back door, and then America remembers something and calls after him, "Hey, I got you a litter tray as well!"

The kitten looks back at him in something akin to pure disgust, but America is too busy sorting through his shopping to notice.