Raylan smirked and bobbed his head, properly humble about the good looks he knew he had. Had being the past tense; he didn't know how that rating was altered by the new scars across his face and chest. He wasn't sure what to take with Klaus's tone, but he'd take the compliment for what it was.

"So I've heard. I'd say somethin' similar for you but thirty four is kinda the prime. I saw the way you were sittin' in Negan's lap last time you were here, I know you probably don't need to be told it." Klaus wasn't nothing, especially when he smiled. There was a particular brightness about him that Raylan found enduring, despite his best internal warnings for admitting so. Softness wasn't to be tolerated; it only invited more of the same, that he couldn't readily afford.

"Suppose I oughta say thank you for that. I'm near halfway to bein' an old man." That didn't stop people from hitting on him and he knew it. "Not that I feel like it yet." Not that he fucked like it yet, which was, really, the important part.