Jack was perhaps more excited about having wrinkles in his face than any other person in the world would be about the same. They weren’t even all that much, just a few around his eyes, but he’d never shown any signs of aging in the past few centuries, and doing so now was such a new, novel thing. He spent a lot of time just looking at himself in the mirror, not just because he thought he was handsome but because he felt like he finally could be considered an adult. It was strange, but centuries as a teenager tended to make a person view themselves as a non-aging, spritely sort of being. He vastly preferred himself as an adult.
“I can’t either,” he responded, grinning. He pressed his lips across her jaw and down along her neck. “I’m the most generous, it’s true,” he said, his eyebrows lifting as she unbuttoned his shirt. “Why, Miss Elsa. What are you doing?”