It's this here sim--sympathetic booze they talk about.

Have a drink, Mr.
Gray?
There's a coupla bottles of real liquor in the closet--not this tiger's milk you get--" The caller declined the invitation.

"Where the devil have you been, Buddy?
We were getting worried." "Who, me?
Oh, I been--lookin' around." "Your mother is nearly frantic." Buddy stirred uneasily.

"Pshaw! I'm fine.

I can take keer of myself.
Nobody don't need to worry about me." "Good! Now then, you young scoundrel, I'm going to order you the sort of breakfast that goes with what ails you, and while it is coming up, you are going to jump under the shower." "Where d'you get that 'jump' stuff ?" the youth inquired, faintly.
"Besides, I'm clean." But Gray had seized the phone, and as soon as he had given his order he strode into the bathroom and turned on the water.