Misery Loves Rimmer's Company
by Roalee

"Get yer balls outta me face!"

"But, Mr. Lister, it will help you relax."

A tall curly-haired man, his hologramatic H glinting, walked in with an evil grin. He had just caught the tail end of the conversation and a thought churned in his weaselly mind.

"Ah, Lister," he said slyly. "Is the AR machine not working again? Resorting to using Kryten for your own illicit pleasure now?"

Dave Lister was the most laid back guy in the universe. Never mind that he was the last guy in the universe, but at this moment, his usual good humour was wearing thin. His caramel coloured skin flushed darkly.

"Shut up, Rimmer. You're not helpin'."

"Sir, if you would just grind my balls, you would feel much better."

Lister glared at the mechanoid that stood before him. Kryten looked back with a worried expression. Rimmer opened his mouth to say something, when Lister glanced over at him.

"Shut it, Rimmer. Kryten, you're not helpin' either."

Lister went back to brooding. He sat slumped over in the uncomfortable metal chair he was sitting in, trying to ignore Kryten's pleading look. After a while, Kryten smiled a lipless smile and turned to Rimmer.

"Mr. Rimmer, you take my balls then. You know how to grind them well."

With that, Kryten dropped a pair of Chinese worry balls on Rimmer's bunk and left the room to go find something more productive to do, preferably laundry. Rimmer recovered from the slight shock of suddenly being presented with the balls and threw Kryten's retreating backside a dirty look.

"Bastard mechanoid. Now I remember why I hate him."

Rimmer glanced over at Lister. His disgusting bunkmate was usually grinning like a small rodent with its cheeks stuffed. Now, he sat despondently at the small table, not even paying attention to him. For some reason, that irked Rimmer, yet pleased him in a small way.

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