The face the sun is out and is so bright, is indeed a good thing. It means there shouldn't be any vampires around. Which means Trevor doesn't have to worry as much. That's about it though, he's unimpressed by the weather otherwise. The Belmont was used to sleeping rough, so the idea of making his own shack and hunkering down somewhere on the beach also didn't seem to bother him. No, it was just the lack of food and personal belongings that he was missing.

Listen, Trevor's probably ate a rat or two in his time. Food is scarce sometimes back home and even when he does have the cash to pay for it, people don't like to accept money from a Belmont. Peter may as well have been a Saint! Grabbing a handful of crab meat and shoving it ceremonially into his mouth, chewing, then stopping to savour the taste before gulping more of the stuff back down. And then the magic word is said. " Beer? You have beer? God, yes, I'm parched." His eyes light up at the mention of alcohol! It's been far too long since his last drink!

Always watching and paying attention, Trevor took note of the strange little mechanical waiter and how it seemed to do whatever this guy wanted. "Did you make him? Or are you some kind of Lord here? You're well-fed, relaxed, seem to be listened to."

"Huh... Sounds batshit crazy if you ask me. Even the dead you say?" That's not great news, is it? "Would you know you'd died and came here? I mean, if I'd died back home, riiiight before getting washed up here, would I have known?" He has a theory, not a great one, but a theory on why he's here nonetheless. "Peter?" Offering his hand across the table after wiping it clean on the side of his pants. "Trevor, just Trevor. No relation to anyone."