[He happens to turn his head just enough to catch a hazy view of that pout, and sighs, defeated. Probably his mother.]

Ah, my lord, you will be the death of me with that face. I had noticed that myself, but I don't quite know how to explain it. We don't age like we used to. [His skin kept its youthfulness, his strength was still top form, and yet his hair had lost its color once he stopped caring to keep it. Strange.]

[He wiggles a hand in the direction of the bathroom.] In the bathroom across the hall, there's a brush on the counter top, if you insist. You can't miss it. If I'm still conscious by the end of this, I'll make us both what you like.