Cyrus fervently dug through the rack of bottles under the counter, searching frantically for the thing he knew wasn't there.
He found absolutely no imported drinks, nothing from any planet other than their last stop, which was at least three weeks ago, giving up, he hopped over the bar counter and landed in a stool positioned perfectly. He dug through his coat for a knife and chucked it towards the far wall into the dartboard.
He knew full well the tedium of space travel. In a day or two they were supposed to reach their next objective, a small port planet where they would land and do some trading on their way to a safer location. Sometimes it pays to play nice. He wondered who else of the crew was bored