Video, open 🍸

[pickledturncoat]

[The man in the video is sitting at a bar and he has three bottles in front of him; from what can be seen of the labels, they contain whiskey, gin and vodka respectively, all popular brands. None of them are full, with the missing contents presumably inside the man, who isn't exactly sloshed, more pickled or brined, he would call it; inebriated to a chatty degree—which will become more than apparent when he opens his mouth. For the record, his accent sounds English (or Imperial, depending upon your galaxy of origin); upper class and a bit snobbish.]

I am assured by the local barkeep—who also happens to be a fine example of a human male, by the way— [the video screen is angled briefly towards the man in question, currently looking too embarrassed for words] —that these intoxicants are typical of this planet and to be quite honest, I've never imbibed anything more boring in my life. I never thought I'd actually yearn for the sap of a Plooey tree, which is a lovely thick gummy liquor that glows green like industrial slime-waste and tastes like you're licking the underside of a leaky droid, or Knockback Nectar, which is basically made from lichen that's been scraped off rocks and pickled in fuel barrels, giving it that distinctive motor oil aftertaste, and yet... here we are.

Proper liquor should make you cough so hard your eyes water and instantly make your gums go numb and your teeth buzz. I want something strong enough to melt an astromech's circuits and instead I get dishwater.

[He waves an expressive hand towards the bottles, accompanied by a histrionic sigh. His life is so hard, truly. Help him imPort network; you're his only hope.]