[ His eyes narrow, just slightly. Memory gone? It tugged at something, but he couldn't really place it. Like a memory that was just out of his reach, and grasping at it just made the sand slip through his fingers while he clawed to try to dig it up. ]

Should it be? I don't know about you, but I plan to keep my brain in excellent condition well into my nineties.

[ Either way, this was going to be bad, he could already tell. ]

I'm kind of insulted that you pulled out that piece of trash again, though. Were you worried I'd have one of my own?