Reynard sighs, his face relaxing out of the playfulness he'd been trying to put on. "Tina. Do you remember when I told you I was a Winter spirit? Now, don't judge me too harshly, but... that means I'm old. Very, very old. Hundreds and hundreds of years old." He takes her hands in his and squeezes it gently. "I'm good at surviving. And I promise you, I intend to live for at least another hundred hundred years."