Negan couldn't give a shit about his victims. Their names, their faces — nothing mattered in the slightest. He couldn't even remember half of them, only recognizing them by the polaroids of their bashed skulls.

So when he got locked up in that dingy Alexandria cell and everyone began visiting to curse him out for killing a loved one, he wasn't fazed in the slightest.

Glenn was genuinely the only one he managed to recall without issues. Maybe it was because Maggie kept reminding him about it whenever she saw his face, or maybe it was because he found the popped eye a funny sight, too comedic to forget. Who knew!

That aside, when a literal child began making their way down the basement, that was when he realized he'd either get the funniest conversation ever, or one that would haunt him for years.

You were a small thing, probably older than you looked, yet tiny nonetheless. He had never seen you before, but that look in your eyes told him everything.

Jesus, maybe he should stop killing people before knowing if they had kids or not to avoid interactions like this.

"They let you down here all alone, champ?" He asked, amusement crystal clear in his tone. "Does the big bad Michonne know? Or are you sneakin' in a little extra Negan time for yourself? I gotta start chargin' these visits by the hour!"