The cat, in a suitably unhelpful way, looks up at Amelia and starts to purr quietly. It blinks and then starts head-butting her hands again.

"Oh!" Viatorus had finished up his morning routine and now appears, suited in tweed with at least one strand of hair refusing to co-operate. "Here, sorry." He steps over and scoops the small cat off of Amelia's lap, ignoring that the cat has decided that this means play time and has decided to half-heartedly gnaw on his knuckles while he cradles her. "She's, ah, she's probably hungry." He goes to move away, but immediately steps back. "Oh, gosh, you must be too. I'm sorry, I don't really have anything in."