Gwen groaned, rubbing her face with one hand as if fending off the conversation entirely. "Jesus Christ. Are you seriously worried about a little sunburn?"
"A 'little sunburn' could kill me," Colette shot back. "I haven't hit a hundred yet—I'm not immune like you are."
"Oh great, so now I babysit," Gwen stopped again, turning fully to face her this time, but there was no anger in her expression—just tired resignation with faint irritation. "Look, I don't even know how old I am. Lost count somewhere past two hundred years ago—give or take a decade."
Colette arched an eyebrow. "You don't even know when you were born?"