[ The laugh cuts right through his ears, loud and unrestrained, and Trevor has to fight down a sour mood suddenly bubbling to the surface. It shouldn’t surprise him though, that people are equally shitty here as they are in Wallachia. It’s just the nature of things, after all.

He looks up to see who exactly pulled that jerkass move, when his eyes land on a very reclined and very undressed woman with the most otherworldly looking hair. By the time Trevor's brain catches up to what he's looking at, he’s already gotten an eyeful of everything fully on display. A blush rushes to his face and his eyes snap to the ground, clearly embarrassed that he’s just seen something he shouldn’t have.

God down in Hell.

The need to be pissed off is high, but there’s a very sudden, very unwelcome urge in his chest. An urge to go over and talk to her, to drum up conversation and to find out what the hell is going on here. But in a friendly way.

Maybe he smacked his head on a sand dune on the way in.

Clearing his throat and trying his best to ignore the very hot blush still splashed across his cheeks, Trevor yells out: ]

If you’re looking for entertainment you had better move along. Can’t guarantee a crab won’t land by your feet next.

[ Behold: the Trevor Belmont being genuinely helpful special.

But really the very last thing he wants her to do is get up and leave. So he adds: ]

Or don't. It's a free bloody beach.