Hawke does have a tendency to chatter on and on without fail. In part it's because her friends are also chatty, or they're silent and grumpy like Fenris. She talks to herself when no one is around too. It's a stream of consciousness. She does pause though when he asks; he looks confused. He's looking at his hands and at his reflection, and she raises an eyebrow questioningly and waits. Odd fellow. "The apple?" She can't help echoing that one. What in the world could an apple do that would lead to this?

"You're kidding!" She's openly shocked. "I've never heard of a magic like that." Magic could do all kinds of things, but if it could completely alter age, no one would grow old in her land. They'd keep using mages over and over, so it was probably for the best in that case. Hawke eyes him, tapping a finger against her chin. "Maybe they figured a ninety-two year old would have a hard time in this place. It does require you to be a bit spry." She assumes he'd find a way to keep up, he has the look of someone who at least knows the motions of survival. But you could be the healthiest person in the world and still be relatively useless in your 90s, in her opinion. She can't even imagine living that long. Her thirties was hard enough to get to.

Right, he said his name. "Nice to meet you young version of Altaïr. You must feel like a million gold pieces."