"Well, what do you think?" Kochanski grinned, spinning around so that her hair swung around her shoulders. Her… blonde hair.
Lister frowned slightly, setting down his can of lager as he sat up straighter. "Krissie, what did you do?"
"Cat did it, with the supplies from the derelict." She ran her fingers through her gold streaked, blown out strands. "I've never had highlights before. Did you realize that I've had the same hair since cyber school? That's nine years… well, three million and nine years, technically. That's worse than my mother!" she chuckled. A look of worry crossed her face in the long silence that followed. "What? What's wrong?" she patted her hair nervously, looking between it and Lister's troubled expression.
"Nothing, Krissie, it's just… different, is all." The woman before him was pretty, there was no doubt about that. The honey blonde locks framed her expressive blue eyes, and there was something about his Kris about her, still. Just not enough.
"You think it's bad?" she asked, crestfallen. She began to fidget with it, a look of nervous worry in her eyes.
"Well, no, not really bad." Lister offered. "It's pretty, I just. I dunno. I like brown hair." He finished, lamely.
"Well, I like it." She replied, a small measure of confidence returning to her voice. "I think it's, I don't know… fun."
"Just don't let Cat get carried away with it." He warned. "You know how he is about bleached blondes. You don't want him to make you look cheap."
"Cheap?" she demanded, leaning over the midsection table. "You think I look cheap?"
"Um." Lister paused to gather his words, realizing that he had unwittingly entered a minefield. Kochanski's expression grew more enraged as the nanoseconds piled up. "It's nice, Krissie, I just don't like it as much as how it used t'be."
"Cat likes it." She spat. "Last time I checked, he was a better gauge of style than you. I don't care if you like it. I don't care one bit!" She cried, storming towards the exit. "It's not all about you, you know. Just because you're the last man alive I don't have to fix my hair to your tastes. It's my hair."
"I never said you did!" Lister cried, rising to his feet.
"Stop it, Dave!" she snapped, as he made an advance towards her.
Lister froze, his fingers curling up in frustration. "Fine. Forget it. Forget I ever smegging existed!" he called out, as she stormed away.
"I'm trying to!" she half screamed, half sobbed, as the door closed with an angry whirr.
Lister sighed as he sunk into his seat, and took a long swig of his lager before resting his forehead on the table's edge. What was it about Starbug that did this to people? Maybe he'd been too hard on Rimmer. He crinkled the empty can in his fist, and reached for yet another.