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“It's weird, innit?”
“What is?” Rimmer screwed up his nose. "The fact we've actually met someone who doesn't want to eat our brains through a straw?"
Each simulated wrinkle of his scowl was painfully familiar, memorised from all angles. Lister realised he'd probably spent more time staring at the projection of Arnold Rimmer's dead face than any other activity in the last decade. Hell, maybe his whole life. And as of tomorrow, Lister didn't know if he'd ever see it again.
“No, I mean..." Lister made an all-encompassing gesture to himself, Rimmer, and the wider ship. "To think all this - it's gonna finally be over.”
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During the events of Mirror, Mirror, Kirk retires to his room. Rather than Marlena, he finds Spock awaiting him.
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Eileen, in a faraway place and a faraway time, had been an ordinary young woman. She minded what her mother taught her, kept her face clean and her knees closed, her hair long and styled, even wore a smudge of makeup at her eyes. She let men open doors and carry heavy objects. True, she was vicious at heart, but surely that wasn't unusual; Yharnam only released what, no doubt, many respectable young women just like Eileen had buried inside.
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She could be free and have the whole wide plane of existence open before her - but still there lies the feeble hope, half-rotted in her breast, that Odysseus might still be alive, might still return.
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This, Eileen remembered, was why she never sought Djura out before now. Gods, but he could witter on forever. It did no good to dwell on such things. The hunt, the hunters, the blood, the Church - what would be, would be. Simple as that.
If only she didn't agree with half the words coming from his mouth.
Recent series
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10k of me saying fuck you Stephen King
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