“Ollie, come with me.”

“Yes sir, captain sir. Where are we going, again?”

“To the brig.”

“To visit Lars?”

“Precisely.”

…

“Hello, Lars.”

“Oh, hello Jeffrey. Hello Ollie.”

“Hello, Lars.”

“What brings the two of you down here?”

“Cookies.”

“Cookies, Lars. We’re having our cookie party and didn’t want you to feel left out (you thieving milk-drinking bastard).”

“Aww, you guys are all right!”

“Too bad the brig holobars won’t let us share. Ain’t that a shame, Jeffrey?”

“It’s a bloody shame.”

“Maybe you could turn them off? Just for a second?”

“And let you take over the ship? We’re not idiots, Lars.”

“I won’t do nothing, I swear!”

“That’s what you said last time we passed through here. I know you know the next sector on this route. I can see it all over your face.”

“How would I know that?”

“You’re a terrible liar, Lars.”

“Frankfurter Spiral?”

“What did I tell you?”

“Sorry.”

“Fine. Alright, we’re letting you out. But if you so much as glance at the mustard, we’ll toss you into space.”