He extends a hand towards you, flashing a toothy smile that fails to cover his obvious nerves. He puts a leg up on the couch next to you in an attempt at smooth confidence, but slips and hits his forehead on the back of the sofa. He sits down next to you in a bit of a daze, then quickly recovers.

Ignore that. Arnold Rimmer. I’m the highest-ranking officer onboard this ship. What are you doing here?