The prints were safely hidden, but with his top priority taken care of Ocelot found himself dwelling on other matters. Such as how he was supposed to eat. There were other cats in the neighborhood, so he'd managed to stay hidden in someone's home for the night. He wasn't yet stooping to stealing cat food. There had to be something better out there. There had been a brief but horrid affair with hunting. Despite managing to catch the bird, Ocelot wasn't really sure how to kill something with his mouth. It seemed odd. So he'd sat there stupidly pinning a flailing bird to the ground for five minutes before reluctantly setting it free. There was doubt he could stomach gutting the creature with his teeth anyway. He wasn't Snake, for God's sake, he still had some culture.

So hunger was the most prominent reason that Ocelot had for prowling along the fence that bordered the backyard. There hadn't been any Snakes, and the spy bitch was rather absent as well. He hadn't seen them leave, but they didn't appear to be here either. Curious, he hopped down and crouched low, belly pressed against the grass. Still no movement. Feeling a bit more secure, he shook himself off and began his jaunt toward the backdoor. It was still open. These weren't bright people he was dealing with, but he supposed their killer instinct made up for any intelligence they lacked.

Stepping lightly inside the home, Ocelot swiveled his ears forward in hopes of catching any sound. If it weren't for the utter helplessness, being a cat could be quite useful for future assignments. His stomach pressed him forward with little more regard for caution as he headed toward the kitchen. Hopefully the good doctor left something out for his resident platoon of canines. With any luck, it wouldn't be dog food.