"When you get to be over three hundred years old, everyone's a lad or lass to you."

The only person who could call Alexander 'lad' was Andre of Astora, and only because Alexander was sure Andre would kick his ass if he told him otherwise.

Once he got the all clear from Rich, he gave his sword a swift kick near the tip of the blade to dislodge it from the ground, moving seamlessly into a roll away from the pillar as it crashed down next to him. Exhausted from the ordeal, he dropped the massive greatsword to the ground, falling to his knees as he caught his breath.

"You know," he said, breathlessly, "Back in my world, that wouldn't have been a problem. Bloody hell, everyone else gets more powers, but somehow I get less. The gods must really hate me."

To be fair, he did kill a bunch of them.