"It's what I do, man." He looked up at Mal, raised his glass up into the air, and grinned. Then, he took a long drink of it and leaned back in the chair. The rum was warm going down.

He could give this sort of advice, he thought, but he was bad at following it. He looked back down into the rum, its color giving his brown eyes a reddish tent when they reflected back up at him.

He repeated, "It's what I do."