How old?

Now, now, young man.

We do not pose such inquiries of a prestigious lady.

Er.. I forgot about that.. Sorry.

Alright.

Rather all right, dear boy.

Neither ill intent meant, nor such taken. You're a fine fellow, and all faux pas are easily committed.

I didn't know you held me in high esteem, Fiddler's Green.

The Lord would disapprove of your displeasure, Madam.

Morpheus is no longer here. These are the times I miss his brooding, thin and pale self.

...apologies?

Ah.

You speak of a form, and that not human. I speak of Dream.

Old.

... More than 400?

For several millennia.

.. Whoa.

At my age, men were but a passing fancy and a stage long buried in the past.