If It Weren't For Me, He Would Already Be Dead

As he stands in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth and lamenting the loss of the youthful elasticity in his skin, he makes eye contact with his reflection, groans, and then quickly looks away. I stand behind him, “You're getting on a bit old man, who's going to fancy that now eh?” I can tell he agrees but doesn't reply, he rarely does. When he does it's usually a jovial “piss off, or shut it!”. It's banter, at least I think it is.