The android stepped back and stared fixedly at the man. "You are a sot, sir."
Raymond exploded. "What!"
"S-o-t, sot. An alcoholic. A drunkard. One who imbibes intoxicating liquors."
Raymond jumped out of the chair and threw his glass and cigar on the carpet violently. The cigar sizzled in the midst of the foaming liquid. He glared at the android. "You go to hell!"
"As I have repeatedly attempted to impress upon your happy, pickled brain, sir," the android said, "It is impossible for me to go there."
"That isn't exactly what I meant."
"In that case, sir, I would suggest that hereafter you say what you mean."
Raymond swore. He swayed uncertainly, and then dropped back into the chair. He reached out to the floating table for a fresh cigar, jammed it in his mouth, and chewed it nervously. He was a short, chubby man, with brown, thinning hair, a double chin, and lines around his mouth, where a friendly smile had recently met an untimely death.
Raymond pulled his cigar out of his mouth and stared at the wet soggy end. He moved his head from side to side, turned his gaze on the android, and muttered through his teeth, "You and your impeccable androidal exterior have got to go."
The decision immediately had a relaxing effect. Raymond's moist brow unwrinkled itself momentarily, and he almost smiled at the thought.