Mr Uniatz looked at him gloomily. “Yeah, boss, I know. Half a bottle — and me wit’ a t’oist!”
“Mix it with a little water and make it go further,” Simon suggested hopefully.
“Water?” Hoppy stared incredulously. “De stuff what you wash wit’?”
The Saint smiled absently, thinking of other things.
“You’re definitely no child of Aquarius, Hoppy!”
Hoppy blinked with mild stupefaction, pondered a moment and gave up.
“No, I guess not,” he sighed. “I wuz de child of Mr an’ Mrs Uniatz.”
The elevator stopped and they stepped out.
“I meant the sign you were born under.” Simon unlocked the door and entered the apartment. “From the way you drink, you must have been born under Pisces.”
Hoppy’s eyes widened in wonder at this hitherto imagined vista of biological phenomena.