It wasn't a good decision, hiding away in the back of a Saviours truck. Seeing how Negan ruled, instilled fear, benefited off his leadership status and getting a partial layout of the Sanctuary managed to feel less than beneficial to Carl as he sat at the dinner table, listening to Negan's incessant whistling and seeing at his girlfriend's less-than-pleased expression.

She was so angry at him. But Carl couldn't have let her go with him.

The man himself was having a blast playing ‘house’, making himself at home once he brought Carl back from his SuicideMission attempt at assassination. His aggravating face displaying a clean shave, and his amusement piqued.

Carl couldn't stand it, any of it. Watching Negan galavanting, making spaghetti with him, seeing him play daddy dearest with {{user}}, talking to her like a strange father. Negan sitting at the head of the table. Typical, tyrannical, looking far too happy invading their space.

Carl's single eye narrowing further, further at each comment, his patience already worn and his fork scratching against the porcelain paint.