Wait, stop -- that man, bloated beyond all recognition, was 42?

"Sure he is. You know, age is just a number."

"Yes. But for him that number is higher than 45."

"Sure, yeah. And if you're not -- age is just a number anyway."

"I don't know... 80? One hundred? One year old? I don't know what I'm supposed to say? How old is the sorriest age?"

"I don't know... one? Two? I don't know what I'm supposed to say? How old is a newborn cop who doesn't remember he's a cop?"

"I don't know... one million years old? Twenty-one? Seventeen? How old are superstar police officers usually?"

"I don't know... Twenty-one? Seventeen? Sixteen? When does the male libido peak?"

"I don't know... Forty-one? Forty-five? What am I supposed to say? What's the most boring age a human being can be?"

I got this, I got this... My age -- I think I'm...

Yes?

I'm old. A wizened sage who has seen it all across three hundred years.

Yeah, but probably not though. Do you want to know the truth?

I don't want to think about this anymore.

Okay. Seek not the truth. Cower in barbarism, you 58-year-old man-child.

Bring it on. I am not afraid of the truth.

To the Laboratorium!

I'm in my early thirties. A rough thirty. I lived it up.

You're a rough rider, but not in your early thirties. Do you want to know the truth?

Oh my god. I have no idea. Probably middle aged, but... but...

Do you want to know the truth?

You could ask either one of them.

[Discard thought.]