"White hair? Be kind, and spare my vanity, and take me from this cold world before such a disgrace." A pause, and he smiles to Zara. "Or, perhaps, I shall bear it as a badge of honor, until my head rolls upon the floor." He stands, brushing at his knees to clear any specs of dust from the trousers, and retrieves his glass to sip as though he had not just been courting a beheading.