"You!" the little man said. "You got hooked with the goods?"
"I got hooked," Marc said flatly, "with the goods just where you planted it on me."
"Jeez!" the little man cried despairingly. "You just can't rely on nobody no more." He chewed his lip for a moment, then looked up at Marc anxiously. "What about the French Elixir? Did the bulls heist that, too?"
"French Elixir?" Marc said. "I don't know anything about your French Elixir."
"The hell you don't, man," the little man said. "I faded it into your coat pocket. Did they find it?"
Marc paused. A chill of apprehension skittered up his spine. "Into my coat pocket," he said. "A small brown bottle?"
"It wasn't a big blue jug," the little man said impatiently. "You still got it?"
Marc reached into his pocket and pulled out, first one brown bottle, then another. They were almost identical except that the liquid in the one marked 'French Elixir' had been depleted by approximately one fourth.
"Good night!" Marc yelled. "I drank the wrong stuff!"
"You drank the Elixir!" the little man said. He snatched the bottle from Marc's hand. "You drank it?"