A copy of Amos sat casually on the opposite side of the table, its legs crossed, leaning back like he owned the place. Same hat. Same coat. Same hair. But its eyes… its eyes were wrong. They were gleaming gold, not red.
The double stretched, rolling its shoulders, and letting out a relaxed groan.
"Ugh…finally…" It sighed, rubbing its own face as if waking from a long nap. Its voice was Amos's but smoother, warmer, relieved, and prideful.
They took a long sniff of the air. "...I can breathe…! ...and ahh… warmth… how I've missed you…"
It closed its golden eyes for a moment.
"So good…" it murmured.
It looked at the food with a pleased look on its face and tried picking up the fork before it phased through its hands.
The copy froze
It sighed. "...Right…"
And its face went back to having that mean look that Amos always remembered, and it made his skin crawl.
Amos groaned, clutching his left eye. "...What…in hell… you want…?" He said, swallowing, ready for the unexpected.
"Huh?!" The double gasped dramatically. "Amos! I thought we was friends by now!" Then its grin faltered, its face now sad. "You still hate me…?"
"...Yes…" Amos said flatly, letting his hand fall, his pupil still red but with nine black rings inside, making his eye look like a spiral. "You… you tried to take over my damn body…"
The copy swung its legs up onto the table, leaning back. "...Okay, okay! I admit it—that was wrong, and I deeply regret it, truly I do, okay? I'm sorry, Amos. But you gotta realize that they were holdin' you back in the middle of a desert, forcin' you to do crimes, robberies, and bad things you weren't comfortable with! I was trying to do ya a favor and get rid of them! Because you just wouldn't leave them! You got too attached."
"...Uh-uh… that don't fix nothin'… not by a long shot." His good eye narrowed. "And I don't buy your bullshit apology for even a second."
As they both stayed silent, the train's whistle grew sharper, its rumble rolling through the car, every shudder shaking the floor beneath them.
Suddenly the copy chuckled. "Ain't that the truth…" It sighed and then leaned forward. "Don't matter anyways… Cuz they're dead, ain't they? got murdered by a demon, huh?"
Amos immediately pulled out his LeMat, aiming it right at its head. His hand was steady, though his chest heaved, his eyes burned with rage, and his left eye made the rings almost seem like a raging spiral.
The copy froze, its eyes widening for a moment, and then it smirked.
Amos's eye twitched.
The copy leaned back unshaken. "You're makin' yourself look like a fool, Amos. You can't shoot me; I ain't real dummy!"
Amos's grip didn't waver; if anything, it tightened. He never knew that his own face would be able to make him this mad.
His left eye spiraled faster; a faint glow seeped through under his iris.
The copy's smirk faltered. "...Alright! Alright...! I'm sorry!" It rubbed the back of its neck. "Seriously this time."
He lowered his gun. "...if I hear one more word about my family from that filthy mouth of yours… I'll kill you, got it?"
"...Alright, I'm sorry," it muttered, hands half-raised. "And you do know you're basically calling your mouth filthy…?"
Its boots slid off the table, hitting the floor without a noise. Then just watched Amos.
Amos felt its gaze, but he didn't bother caring. He just leaned back, breathing steadily, his eyes fixed somewhere far past the curtain.
Outside the sun was sinking low, pouring gold through the curtain and spilling across the table.
"You know," it said softly. "You weren't always like this."
Amos scoffed under his breath, but he stayed silent.
The whole car dipped slightly as it rounded a curve, the shadows shifting.
"...You ain't ever gonna forgive me, huh?" The copy asked, already knowing the answer.
Amos finally turned his head slowly, giving it a cold stare. "Listen… whaddya want? Cuz I know you want something, so spit it."
"Just… wanna talk to ya. We're friends, ain't we? Two in one, remember?"
"No. We are not." Amos said coldly, still looking away, tapping his fingers against the table.
"...Fine… We ain't friends no more…" The copy, he said, irritated. "...funny though that you're sitting, alone, talkin' to… well… me, which is also yourself."
Amos's chest heaved, his lips curving slightly down.
"As much as you hate it now, you are me, and I am you. We're two in one." It leaned forward, resting its chin on its fist. "We can keep fighting till the day ya die, or we can be two in one again."
"Can ya stop mentioning 'two in one'?! It's annoyin'!" Amos hissed, his face flustered.
The copy leaned back, folding its arms across its chest with a sly smirk. "Why? You're the one that created the mantra."
"You think I don't know that!?" Amos sighed, his face still a bit flustered. "You know what, whatever."
They both stayed silent for a while.
"...Headin' to New York City, huh?"
"Mm."
"You're gonna meet lotta of folks there, maybe friends too."
"...mm."
"Well… remember I was your friend first even though we aren't friends anymore."
The rhythm of the rails felt almost hypnotic, the sound of metal on metal, and they both stayed quiet again.
"...I'm gonna get some money." Amos finally said, standing up
"You gonna pickpocket some poor feller?" the copy said.
"I gotta; I'm broke." Amos muttered as he stood in front of the mirror licking his thumb and fingers to clean them up from gravy, bread crumbs, and sauce. He tugged his collar straight and pushed his hair forward, letting it fall over his left eye until the strands shadowed it. To not get any questions about his eye. "And I've read and heard that New York is real spendy."
The copy tilted its head, watching him from the table. "You ain't gonna get caught, are ya?"
Amos huffed through his nose as if he was offended by that question. "I ain't stupid; I know what I'm doing."
"That ain't what I was asking."
Amos didn't answer. He really did not have to. He just grabbed his hat from the hook and dusted it off with a practiced flick.
"Ughh… God, you still wear that thing?" The copy groaned.
Amos slid it on anyway, pushing the brim low. "Ain't your business."
"It is my business; you're too goddamn attached," the copy said, pointing at him with a lazy two-finger gesture. "And everything you do is technically my business. Two in one, remember?"
Amos sighed. "Then mind less of it."
The copy frowned, slumping back in the chair with a stupidly overdramatic sigh. "You know, you got real good at pretended ignorance."
"Really? That's great!" Amos said, adjusting the fall of his coat to hide the outline of his gun. "Means im gettin' better at ignoring you."
"Y'know if you get hurt while workin' with the whatsmacallit—The B.O.A.? … I'll get hurt too." The copy said with a thread of worry in its voice.
Amos didn't answer for a moment. "Good. It'll probably shut you up."
The copy opened its mouth, closed it, then squinted at him as if genuinely offended. "...You've gotten meaner. You used to be so nice."
Amos scoffed. "I wonder why I'm so mean now; y'know, it's almost like I can't trust you after what you tried to do!"
It stayed silent.
Finally, it let out a huff from its nose.