[He looks up at her, the firelight casting his lined face in shadows, and turning the silver in his hair to copper. He gives her a long, unreadable look, but then takes her hand and rises, towering above her petite frame.]

Far be it from me to begrudge a beautiful woman, but are you sure you want to indulge this old man? [And then that sharp, devil-may-care smile appears, the old one.] You might give me a heart attack, annwyl.