I'll never understand how someone can walk right by the woodpile on their way in and then complain because there is not a roaring fire inside when they walk in empty-handed.

Welcome, anyway, Homeless. Lemme fetch you a hot buttered rum...oh..uh...an Atropine Bolus, I mean, while you find a bit of kindling. I think you'll find a bundle in the atrium. Then you'll have to excuse me while I wipe some more of the splash marks off of the chandelier.