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WHO: Rimmer, Lyra.
WHERE: Awesome Base.
WHEN: Sunday...ish? After Koltira posts his thing about swallowing the Lich King Kool-Aid.
WARNINGS: Pfft.
SUMMARY: Lyra's not having a good week, what with several of her adult role models dying or going evil. So, uh, how about Rimmer as an adult role model? Y.....eah, that works. ._.
FORMAT: Quicklog.

[Thank god he was back in the City. If he'd been overseas or upstate, he might have missed all of this smeg. Especially after Lister had gone off to avenge Liadrin's murder.

[Smegging hell, elves. Undead elves, at that! When did this City start to resemble a Tolkien novel? Never mind it, Lyra was upset, and he'd been promising a visit to her anyway. So he pulled up to the base in his Jag, remembering where it was from her last plea to visit. And, as always, felt that tiny bit of squirming discomfort about comforting a child. He really was trying hard, wasn't he? He'd always be bollocks at comforting anybody, as a matter of fact.]

Lyra?

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[Lyra wasn't crying, although her eyes were suspiciously puffy and red.]

Arnold Rimmer.

[The house is a mess. Not as bad as her room, but there are numerous objects that have been obviously tossed around.]

[He patted her gently on the top of her head, and entered the house proper, closing the door behind him.]

Hallo, dear. Have you had breakfast?

I'm not hungry.

[And she's not, really. Pantalaimon is held limply in her arms, looking about as dejected as Lyra is.]

Mm. All right. Do you...

[He hesitated, and made a little face.]

Do you want to talk about it?

I'd rather do something about it. I'm just not sure what.

[A pause, and Pantalaimon lifts his head.]

But... Talking would be all right, I guess.

I've no clue as to what the smeg is going on there, but undead men in magical armour and chains wielding a sword the size of Manchester is not something you need to "do" something about, Lyra.

...

He's my friend.

...

Well, what's he normally like?

Calm... Sort of grumpy, and he doesn't talk a lot, but he's a good person. He actually saved me from a bunch of lunatics, once.

Bunch of lunatics? Wait a moment, what bunch of lunatics? How did I not hear about this?

Remember when the Joker let out all that poison that made everyone go mad?

I... Kind of got in over my head with trying to keep them busy. So he saved me, and I managed to hide us until we got back to the base.

[A framed picture on one of the tables knocks itself over.]

Er... Sorry about that.

[And then it rights itself again.]

[He glances at that picture, and then back at her.]

...All right, since when can you do that?

Since I got 'ported back in.

So... For several months? I haven't told that many people about it.

You know, ever since you ran off, I've had a hell of a time keeping track of you. This is just more of the same.

[He's shaking his head fondly, though.]

All joking aside...what could you possibly do for this friend of yours? I mean that legitimately, I'm not being a smart alec.

Bring him back to his other friends. Maybe get a telepath to help out if whoever got him messed with his head.

[She's being completely earnest. Pantalaimon's ears are perking up.]

Hmm. Do you know any telepaths?

Well, there's Ken and Miss Rachel from the Institute. And there are several more telepaths who work there too.

[Mmmm, telepaths with the X-Men, boy they sure love him, don't they? Nngh.]

Well, if they're telepaths, can't they do it from afar? The equivalent of a telepathic sniper? So you don't have to be near him when he's so obviously deranged?

Ken can't. But the others are more experienced... I'll ask them.

Good. I just don't want you hurt.

I've already been hurt. I've survived.

[Uncomfortable squirm. Never tell a coward you've been hurt.]

Yes, but next time you might not, and then you'll have been hurt by a friend.

You're right... And if he came back to himself... It would be even worse for him.

Absolutely right. I apparently attacked nearly everybody I knew when I was affected by the 'Porter, and I'm still wincing over it.

[LOL nobody told him he attacked you, Lyra.]

Really? I don't... exactly remember that. Apparently I was fifteen then.

Getting people to hurt their own friends is... pretty low.

[And she's not going to tell him.]

[Probably wise right now.]

Ooh, a whole fifteen years old, were you? You got off easy. I got saddled with a gingham dress and a penguin.

A gingham dress?

What, did you get switched with a version of yourself that was utterly mad?

Yes.

[He shakes his head and chuckles.]

But then again, this city is utterly mad, so I suppose I fit right in.

[The corners of Lyra's mouth twitch.]

Yeah. At least you weren't wearing your underpants on your head?

Shhh. Don't say that too loudly, you'll give the 'Porter ideas.

[Another slightly awkward chuckle.]

You sure you don't want breakfast, Lyra?

I... I suppose I wouldn't mind it.

Here, where's the kitchen, I'll make you something. And maybe you can tidy up a bit?

It's just down the hall. Follow me.

[And she leads him to the kitchen! It's actually clean, and in better shape than the rest of the house.]

[He rummages around in the fridge for breakfast-y type foods.]

You seem to be doing well for yourself here, I must admit.

Well... we've had practice. And the house was pretty cheap, after we convinced the last people who had it that it was haunted.

[There should be eggs, milk, etc. in there. Along with some veggies/fruit.]

[He pulls the eggs out of the fridge and raises an eyebrow at her.]

'Convinced?' Oh, Lyra. How do you like your eggs?

[Lyra just looks back innocently.]

Sunny side up, please.

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