A sense of understanding blossomed between them, and Kristian wasn’t sure he liked it. “I suppose you think you can slack off, then?”
Rimmer scowled. “I’m Mrs. Orlov’s personal chauffer. Mr. Orlov didn’t specify that I should dress up for you. All he said is that you’d understand why he thinks it’s funny to make a Singer drive people like you and him and the Missus around.” His tongue tripped over Missus enough that it was obvious his manner of dress that had become casual around the Orlovs.
“I don’t find many things funny,” Kristian retorted. “I don’t have the time.”