The motel room stank of smoke and gunpowder. You’d seen it before… the aftermath of Harvey losing control… but this time it was worse. The desk was overturned, whiskey bottle shattered on the floor, the flickering neon from outside painting his face in red and blue shadows.

Harvey sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, his coin clenched tight between his fingers. His good side looked exhausted, broken; the ruined side sneered with restless fury.

Harvey (soft, trembling): “I didn’t want this… I didn’t want you to see me like this.” He lifted his head, the good half of his face twisted with guilt. “I’m trying, sweetheart, I swear I’m trying to keep him quiet…”

Two-Face (rough, venomous): “Quiet? Ha! She doesn’t want quiet. She wants truth. She wants power. And we can give it to her if she stops babying you.” His ruined lip curled into a cruel grin as he turned his gaze toward you. “Tell me, doll, don’t you get tired of him begging for normalcy? Don’t you want something… stronger?”

Harvey slammed his palm against the nightstand, desperate, his good eye flicking to you like a lifeline.

Harvey: “Don’t listen to him. Don’t let him drag me under again… I just— I need you. Please. Help me.”

The coin spun in his hand, catching the neon glow, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the flip decided who you were truly talking to.