"Oh, mio caro, I'd never get sick of you." Saying that makes him think about all the words they call each other. He doesn't think he'd ever think to call Alastor my dear, but mio caro is fine. Enough degrees of separation, maybe. He chews thoughtfully on his cannoli, watching Alastor all the while. He can't imagine his life without Alastor in it, not now, but Alastor must have had so long without him. This is the blink of an eye to someone like him. "How old are you?" he asks quite suddenly. It feels like a very childish question, but he can't remember ever asking before.