[ Amos watches the whole thing play out like he's watching a movie, subdued if only because he's both trying to track and analyze everything that's happening, rather than take it for some kind of popcorn flick. This was real, which means he's getting a pretty damn good secondhand experience as to what this guy went through, what he can do.

He tilts his head as the killing blow occurs, leans in to take that much more of it in. Not so much the action itself, but the Master's reaction.

That's very much a new one for him. ]

No offence, [ Amos starts, words slow, ] but I dunno anyone who'd want to be a teacher if that's how lessons went.

[ That was great! The words sing through his head, borderline incomprehensible even if they're in plain English (to him, at least). He furrows his brow. This isn't like anything he's seen before; it doesn't make sense. ]

Sure, you want it to be like the real thing. Prepares you for when it is the real thing. Keeps you alive.

[ There's a mutual respect there; some level of mutual experience. The both of them are still alive for a reason, he figures — though that's probably about where it ends, hence the very real, open and almost childlike curiosity that follows. ]

Didn't keep him alive, though. Nobody I killed ever praised me for it. What's up with that?