"I'm so surprised," in a tone dry enough that it could be used for kindling if it was a physical thing. A better kindling is the twig that Bellamy was spinning idly between his fingers and now tosses into the fire. Brushes off his fingers on his breeches as he looks sidelong at Lady Miserable, in her haughty huddle.

He decides to humor her. "What's my lady find terrible about camping."

Not that he's going to jump to his feet and run around making changes or anything.