"Serial killers? You walk into a room, see a group of human beings at a bar in their pajamas, and assume that they're insane psychopaths that are very likely to do us in. I know it seems to be the trend-" he holds up his hands and motions down at the bar "-but in this case they are doing nothin' more suspicious than some recoverin' mid-term uni students havin' a few bevvies.

"Besides, I don't know how I got here. Just poof, and I was suddenly greatly displaced." Then he paused, looked around, brow furrowing. He wandered away from that bar, looking at the few people that were obviously not human.

"Hang on, hang on." And then he planted his hand on his cap, like the realization might make the thing pop right off his head if he thought about it too hard. "These look a bit like Space Corp uniforms. Rimmer, this is probably another parallel universe."

Then a turn and a point at the window. "And look at the view. Look how fast we're goin'. This ship can move faster than the Dwarf." Meaning they had a chance to get something useful to take back to the ship. You know, if these weren't rogue simulants. Or wax droids in a holographically generated entertainment program. Or serial killers in pyjamas.