The next afternoon carried the emotional hangover in the air. Marshall was on the sofa, watching a documentary about whales on TV—though he had no idea what it was about, lost as he was in self-pity over the previous night's defeat.
Alyx had left early that day, leaving only a cold cup of coffee on the table. The silence of the apartment was broken only by the documentary's narrator.
The door swung open with a theatrical flourish. There stood Barney, impeccable as always, as if stealing one-night stands didn't violate Marshall's entire sense of loyalty.
"Rise and shine, soldier! The battlefield calls!" he said cheerfully as he entered the apartment.
Marshall didn't even look at him. "Go to hell, Barney."
"Come on, don't be like that. Last night was... a learning exercise. And to show my good faith, I have a compensation plan."
Marshall raised an eyebrow in spite of himself. "What?"
"The girl with the number. Amy. She has—listen to this—a *twin sister*. Identical. I-den-ti-cal. 'Iden': same, 'tical': person. Same person."
Marshall sat up. "A twin sister is not the same person."
"Of course she is! What part of 'identical' don't you understand? It's a second chance, Eriksen. A double date. You with the twin, me with Amy. Poetic justice. Redemption. The chance that *this* time, *you'll* be the one who gets... the girl."
The idea of a second chance to prove himself—to Barney, and especially to himself—was convincing enough.
"Okay," he said, his voice rough. "But this time, Barney, I swear on everything holy, if you steal her..."
"No need! This is the new and improved Marshall Eriksen!"
"Fine. I'll go out with my twin, and I hope you don't change your mind and leave me with your used twin," Marshall said, accepting.
"Hey, she's a person," Barney said, offended, as if *he* hadn't been the one to coin the term 'sweets' for women.
The chosen bar was different, more modern, filled with a different kind of noise. And there they were. Amy and her twin. They were indeed a perfect mirror.
For a moment, Marshall felt dizzy. He clung to Barney's lessons: mystery, confidence, a slight distance. And it worked. With the other twin, the conversation flowed. They laughed and talked about trivial things, but there was a spark—something genuine, faint, but it existed.
Until, at one point, when he went to the bar with Barney for more drinks, Barney told him, "Change of plans, my friend. You have to go."
Marshall blinked. "What? Why?
"I just had a chat with the twins. And well... let's just say I've convinced them to have a threesome... with *me*." His smile was wide and shameless, like a predator's.
All the frustration, the humiliation, the feeling of being a toy in Barney's hands, exploded. "Again?! You told me being single was amazing! Sweets everywhere! What a great adventure!" His voice trembled with rage.
Barney dropped the mask of the playful wingman. His expression turned cold, almost cynical. He leaned in, his voice a caustic whisper that cut through the bar noise. "Amazing? Marshall, listen to me carefully. The single world is not a candy store." He paused. "It's a wasteland. A post-apocalyptic one. There are no friends here. No 'us.' There's only 'me.' It's a brutal competition where friendships are the first dead weight you throw overboard. Everyone is out for themselves. *Everyone.* It's the law of the jungle, and you just stepped out of a nine-year stay at the zoo."
Marshall looked at him. In Barney's eyes, he didn't see malice, but a cold, ruthless logic—a horrible truth that Barney accepted as natural. And in that instant, something inside Marshall that Alyx had watered and protected like a delicate flower... hardened. It didn't break; it became encased in a layer of ice.
If this was the nature of the game, the *real* nature, then he would have to learn to play. Not for fun, but for survival.
Without a word, he turned on his heel. He left Barney with his pirated victory and walked out into the night. He needed air.
And there, on the sidewalk under the neon glow of a sign...
...was Lily.
She was real. In a coat he didn't recognize, her hair a little shorter, different.
They looked at each other.
"Lily," he finally said, and his own voice sounded strange to him, as if it came from the person he was becoming, not the one he had been.
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