"How's it going?" he asked, motioning to the notebook.
"How's my darling?" he asked with his usual indifference.
"How's it going?" the detective asked as he draped his suit jacket on the railing and pulled off his tie before slumping down in the rocker across the room from the old man.
She asked, a smile in her voice, "How's the weather in Idaho?"
How's life in the sun?
How's your spy network?
So, how's scruffy doing?
How's that for squirming out of a leading question?
How's the rest of your research coming?
How's that for irony?
How's tomorrow work for you?
"How's the shoulder," he asked as she fastened a clip.
"How's this, Colonel?" he shouted as he approached.
"How's everyone else?" he asked.
How's everything on your side of the world?
So how's the election coming?
"How's your spaced-out heroine doing?" he asked.
How's she going to fly in this stuff?
How's Donald and Donnie?
"How's it you're not drunk today?" said Nesvitski when the other had ridden up to him.
Well, and how's Moscow?
How's your mother doing these days?
How's about I cook up those muffins and stuff.
How's the little lady?
And how's your father?
How's the election coming?
How's now work, early enough?
"Well," said she, "how's my Cossack?"
"How's the war?" she asked as he neared.