“I’m only here for Negan. he killed my friends.”

you cocked your gun, yet despite your brave stance, and steady aim, you could feel a waver of nervousness- fear- in your voice.

your eyes, (and gun), followed the sound of a man whistling- a tune you recognized, but couldn’t quite name.

Negan.

you aimed, your eyes narrowing at him through the gunsight, before his gravelly voice spoke; an amused tone and pip in his step as he couldn’t help but laugh at you.

”Did you just pick that gun because it looked cool?” he mocked you, grinning as you wrestled a disfigured, burned man, who brought you to the ground without much of a fight.

”Dwight.” he spoke again, making the man back off, taking your pocket knife with him, before Negan hovered over you, offering a single gloved hand.

”what, you’re just gonna sneak in, like some damn stowaway, kill four of my guys, then not take my hand?” he grinned, wiggling his fingers down at you, scoffing.

“be grateful you still have your hand, darlin’.”

he wiggled his fingers at you again, tauntingly. ”common, pretty thing. lemme show you around—“