[Building fires. That's deceptively simple, but Trevor won't argue its simplicity. Even if it is every damned hearth in the house. Do they even have that much firewood left? If not, he's sure some of their expensive furniture will burn nicely. The ugly floral couch in Sypha's work room. The offensively opulent pearl-inlaid vanity in the second-floor drawing room. Perhaps they can even recruit some old tomes from the Belmont vault to the effort.

Trevor's never been strictly pyromanic, but the notion is suddenly tempting...

Around the next corner, home is in sight just ahead of them, and it's a relief to see it still standing. Judging by Adrian's uptight aura, Trevor half-expected the house to be overrun by demons already.]

Simple enough. The fires, the plan. We'll be fine. [Trevor's words are terse at first, but his voice softens as it lowers.] And need I remind you, you and I are a force to be reckoned with? Don't worry so much. We're not the useless nobility we look.