"Of course," I said, and added absurdly, "That's why I don't wash."
"You mean," Andre said slowly, ploddingly, "that if you bathed, you would be admitting that drinking coffee was in the same class as any other solitary vice that makes people wash frequently."
I was knocked to my knees.
"Kevin," the Martian said, "drinking coffee represents a major vice only in Centurian humanoids, not Earth-norm human beings. Which are you?"
Nothing came out of my gabbling mouth.
"What is Doc's full name?"
I almost fell in, but at the last instant I caught myself and said, "Doctor Kevin O'Malley, Senior."
From the bed, Doc said a word. "Son."
Then he disappeared.
I looked at that which he had made. I wondered where he had gone, in search of what.