How the hell had Barty lit the match? Clara looked back down at the one she was holding in her hand; whatever Barty had done, he'd been quick about it and since no one's magic was working it must have been something simple. Clara shot a glare at Barty as he departed, and vindictively hoped that he burned himself with his stupid muggle candle.
At least they knew one thing now: it was definitely the little red end that was supposed to be on fire. If they could just figure out how to light it...
Clara grit her teeth; she refused to let herself be defeated by muggle technology. Still standing next to the fireplace, she decided the only thing to do was experiment, and she resigned herself to looking ridiculous as she started tapping the matchstick against the fireplace mantle, hoping to garner some sort of reaction.