"Age, you see, Mr. Fisher looks very young? 24, 25?"
Inside the kitchen of the SS Unicorn, while preparing an elixir for Ilois, the ship's steward, Ms. Heidlin, chuckled and crossed her arms, asking Mr. Fisher behind her.
Taking advantage of her sister-like identity, she unabashedly expressed her enthusiasm, somewhat overwhelming the battle-hardened Mr. Fisher.
"It's actually twenty-nine."
"Oh, that's quite young for a gentleman... I'm already thirty-six this year, already fading and slowly getting weaker."
Holding her cheeks and slightly knitting her brows, she seemed to be self-deprecating and expressing her sadness about the passing years. However, she always managed to exude a palpable enticement. If Mr. Fisher had continued the conversation by saying, "Actually, you still look young," they could have proceeded to an ending both understood.
Unusually, though, Mr. Fisher didn't pick up on her hint and simply glanced at the bubbling potion before asking,
