"Oh. I see." He will meet an Elijah at some point, but Doc's interpretation of 'old soul' will be rather far from the truth. Maybe older than he appears, but not that much older. And maybe questionable tastes in vintage styles or practices or something like that.

Doc pulls his hand back, inadvertently brushing the backs of his fingers against her palm like they have just engaged in the most scandalous Victorian flirting before turning to busy himself with preparing another wet hand towel to replace the one she is using.

"Well I am sure those hundred and sixty-odd years have passed like a hundred and sixty seconds gazing upon a lovely lady such as yourself." Sorry Elena, when it comes to lavishing compliments, he really can't help himself.