I may be a hologram, but I'm a GRE-E-E-E-EDY hologram

<Parrotts>
-----Snip-----
"For that stuff, I call it the Molotov Delight, keep it away from an
open flame, twenty dollarpounds a bottle. Once I can get my still to
produce beer, I'll sell you that for fifteen dollarpounds a bottle.
That gives me a nice profit, and you'll no doubt be able to tack on
five or ten extra dollarpounds when selling it to the customers. So,
what do you say?"
-----End Snip-----
Cubie swished the flask around, analyzing its contents. Fifteen
dollarpounds was highway robbery for rotgut like this. But with the
ship's liquor stores feeding the local marine life, there wasn't much
a barkeep could do.
In a moment of inspiration, she realized that with Owen's books
being as unorganized as they were, hiding the purchase of some
overpriced hooch would hardly be a problem. And with the bizarre
turn of financial events after their last romp with the STCP, at
least in theory they could afford to cover any losses Owen might
incur. "Done and done." She turned to Zack. "Start changing the
price list, Honey. We've just become the Tiffanys of the Dwarf."
She held the flask up to the light. ~Ah, yes. Money can't buy
happiness, but on this ship it CAN be rented.~
~Zack and Cubie~
~Liquorsharks~