A tall figure appeared silhouetted in the hatchway. It walked down the ramp and stood in front of Arthur.
You’re a jerk, Dent, it said simply.
It was alien, very alien. It had a peculiar alien tallness, a peculiar alien flattened head, peculiar slitty little alien eyes, extravagantly draped golden ropes with a peculiarly alien collar design, and pale grey-green alien skin which had about it that lustrous shine which most grey-green faces can only acquire with plenty of exercise and very expensive soap.
Arthur boggled at it.
It gazed levelly at him.
Arthur’s first sensations of hope and trepidation had instantly been overwhelmed by astonishment, and all sorts of thoughts were battling for the use of his vocal chords at this moment.
Whh?… he said.
Bu… hu… uh… he added.
Ru… ra… wah… who? he managed finally to say and lapsed into a frantic kind of silence. He was feeling the effects of having not said anything to anybody for as long as he could remember.
The alien creature frowned briefly and consulted what appeared to be some species of clipboard which he was holding in his thin and spindly alien hand.
Arthur Dent? it said.
Arthur nodded helplessly.
Arthur Philip Dent? pursued the alien in a kind of efficient yap.
Er… er… yes… er… er, confirmed Arthur.
You’re a jerk, repeated the alien, a complete asshole.
Er…
The creature nodded to itself, made a peculiar alien tick on its clipboard and turned briskly back towards the ship.
Er… said Arthur desperately, er…