Mr. Wilson can hardly be unaware that once a writer chooses to youthen or resurrect a word, it lives again.
He nods, time traveling to a point when there were no central lines, no low blood counts, no immunosuppressive drugs. His face youthens momentarily as he bridges back to a point on a timeline that has none of this devastation on it.
... Then necessarily it's going to look as though ...
... And you're like, oh, the lion cubs are cute. And they're walking around. And then they ...