Old? Javert isn't quite certain what he means, looking down at himself then touching the collar with his hand, the familiarity of it more appealing than anything. He's worn collars before, albeit leather stock designed to keep his shirt collar high against his neck — not anything like this, a dog collar, something demeaning but not entirely unwelcome.

"I was not aware there was an age limit," he answers just as blandly, not caring too much what the other man thinks. "Do you often think of your father when you see an older man?" How terrible that must be for him. Javert purposely tries not to think at all about his.