Though Petrana tips her hand noncommittally at less likely to become rubble — at best, 60-40 — she says, “I admit, I am not unmoved by the notion of a place our own, even so modest as we would be obliged to.”

(Even, she says, but it seems the thoughtless words of habit and not a meaningful critique. It'd hardly be the most modest place to which any of them have laid claim, after all.)

“And,” brightening, “you are so fond of decorating.”

Himself. Them. Petrana's assumption that it would extend to a living space they had more control over than one room here or there may or may not be misguided, but she seems taken with it for a moment.