"How's it going?" he asked, motioning to the notebook.
She asked, a smile in her voice, "How's the weather in Idaho?"
"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.
How's your spy network?
So, how's scruffy doing?
How's that for squirming out of a leading question?
How's that for irony?
How's tomorrow work for you?
How's life in the sun?
"How's this, Colonel?" he shouted as he approached.
"How's the shoulder," he asked as she fastened a clip.
"How's everyone else?" he asked.
How's everything on your side of the world?
"How's the war?" she asked as he neared.
How's the rest of your research coming?
How's now work, early enough?
So how's the election coming?
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 the little lady?
"How's your spaced-out heroine doing?" he asked.
"Well," said she, "how's my Cossack?"