X glared at him, hearing that he wasn't liked at first. None of this was very reassuring to hear, not even the bit about having grown to like him as a person. It was shallow. A cheap cop out. "Which one?" He asked. "There's more than one of me." He was bitter, upset about it. Griffin could've been referring to the other one; the part of him that reminded him of Sam. That very well could've been the only reason he cared about him, and kept him along. The demon had also considered the possibility of Griffin lying about it altogether- a cheap means of getting him to shut up before he managed to frighten Sam. "Do you like me right now? Or do you only care about the other one? Would you have gotten rid of me if I didn't remind you of him?" He turned and pointed to Sam. "You would've sent me back, wouldn't you?" X was worrying himself over nothing now, but he couldn't stop. There was always something to worry about, and when there wasn't, his mind made it so. His lower lip quivered, and he bit it to hide the telltale sign of crying.
X stiffened up at Sam's little hand on his shoulder. His eyes went wide, and he turned around again to face the boy. He was desperate for reassurance that he wasn't hated, but all the same, he didn't know what to make of the child's offer that he would be his friend. X didn't even know what it was to be a friend. He'd never had one, but now he had two apparently, and he still didn't know if one even liked him or not. "Are friends supposed to be this confusing?"