Jack whistled happily, immersed in his partially broken but comfortable armchair. That piece of furniture had no business being on a ship, especially such a shabby one, but a man had to reward himself every once in a while. Space was terrible for mental health, so some comforts were needed.
Still, Jack didn't stop at the armchair in the cargo area that day. A full cup of booze that didn't taste like piss sat on his copious belly, earning the envy of the men around him.
"Stop staring at it!" Jack cursed, bringing the cup closer to his face as if to protect it. "You'll all have plenty of Credits for booze and brothels once we deliver the goods."
The four men in the cargo area with Jack feigned disappointment but couldn't hide their eagerness. Truth be told, they were quite lucky. The smuggling business was dangerous for many reasons, but Jack was a good boss, one of the few criminals with an ounce of honor on the market.
