"Washer, take the stick. I'm going to bed."
He stood, kinda. Leaving on the pilot's chair as the old bus left the atmo of Nar Shaddaa and went into a low drifting orbit over the planet. With no place to be why burn the fuel, he thought. Or he would think if he could. Damn coreillian rum. Stuff was strong, but sooo good going down. Leaning on the chair as he walked. Stumbled, whatever. He got to the wall. Leaned on it as he got to the door.
"Fuck, that room is so far.."
He braced the doorway of the bridge. Stumbled through, and lean walked down the narrow hall. A couple door down. The smallest of the two cabins. He punched the controls, literally. "Fuck!". The door slid open, and he free fell. To drunk to even think to catch himself. THUMP! "Fukkkks." He muttered. Face in the durasteel. It hurt, but then again the cold metal was nice on his face. Slowly rolling over, he looked on the ceiling a long moment. Was the room spinning because of the booze or because he forgot to kick in the ships gravity.
"Wash..Oh wait, comlink"
He fumbled into his pocket. Finding only a few hundred credits and a vile of force only knows what. The kinda remembered getting it from a fugly looking alien from the bar. Smile on your face and a tear in your eye, or some kinda poodoo like that. Well here goes. Popping the top of the vile and down the hatch.
