Holo-Man

Hard-Light Whacko

Aria barged into Lister and Rimmer's room, where Rimmer was sitting at the table tinkering with equipment of some sort. Anything to keep from feeling any emotion whatsoever. 

She felt equally as terrible for the way she acted. She couldn't think about anything else except for Rimmer and his stupid ferrety face. "Okay, I've been dwelling over it for a while now. I know I screwed up..." she blurted out. "Although I can't understand how." She stopped long enough to see the peeved look on Rimmer's face. "Tell me what I need to do, because I honestly don't like us being this way."

He looked perplexed by what he assumed was an apology, and by the fact that she implied they had a relationship of some sort. "Us? I didn't know there was an 'us'."

"Well, yeah." she chortled. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you and I were a couple."

His eyes widened. He didn't realise she was only kidding around. "When did we become a couple?" he thought to himself.

She folded her arms. "I'm trying to make you laugh, you goit!"

"Goit?!" he asked, incredulously. He thought he was the only one who knew that term. Though, it wasn't the worst thing he had been called. Mr. Gazpacho still holds first place. Not knowing what else to do, he too resorted to name calling. "You're the... goit!" he retorted, childishly.

She chided, "Oi, watch it Holo-Man!"

He never wanted to insult a woman more in his life. "Oi, watch it Earth-Girl!"

She gasped. "Don't you 'smeg' talk me, mister!" She didn't know what smeg was but she knew it must've been some sort of swear word.

"Me?! You started the smeg talking!"

"Oh real mature, you narcissistic, neurotic gimboid!" She shoved him, nearly knocking him out of his seat.

"Neurotic?!" That was the one term he chose to focus on. He got up, looking determined to win this fight, and he shoved her back.

The two dysfunctional "love-birds" started yelling - screaming over each other. None of them could get a word in edgewise. It was a first: Rimmer had finally met his match. The problem was they were equally stubborn. Neither one of them were about to let the other win. Eventually they resorted to making faces. Rimmer had the upper hand, since his face seemed to be made of rubber and contorted in many ways her's couldn't.

Realising that her facial structure was no match, she began to imitate him. "Ooh, look at me! I'm Arnold Judas Rimmer," She drawled on every syllable of his name. "Alexander the Great's chief eunuch! Anything to hide how much of a useless, cowardly twat I am!"

He stopped making faces, and appeared terribly hurt. That one stabbed him right in his pride, what little of it he had left. He was just starting to trust her, his walls were beginning to crumble, then she had to go and break his heart. He was at a loss for words; he stood there in the middle of the room, dejected.

She felt bad for saying it. He just got on her nerves and it slipped out. Like Rimmer, she had no filter between her brain and her mouth sometimes. "Oh, God, I'm sorry." she gasped.

He wasn't looking at her anymore. He refused to.

"Rimmer, come on." she begged, hoping he'd at least acknowledge her apology somehow. Maybe with a nod. He seemed to be in a disassociated state. It was either that or he was giving her the cold shoulder. She tilted her head, curious to know what was going on. "Did he shut down or something?" she wondered.