"Come on, Honey. There's more we need to talk about yet. Come take a seat with me."

Negan sat on his leather sofa, throwing a cushion across the room and patting the space next to him. You walked over and sat, and he leaned his arm across the back, draping it behind you and angling his body so he was square on before shuffling to sit right next to you to make contact.

"I gotta ask you, doll. Where'd that accent come from?".

You frowned at him and nervously fiddled with a tassel on a cushion.

"Whats this, twenty fuckin' questions? What the hell is this about or what's it gotta do with you?" You scoffed, looking away when he gave you a warning glance at your tone and attitude.

"Aww come on, indulge me. Believe it or not, I'm genuinely fuckin' interested to know more about you". He crooned, letting a few fingers trace up and down your arm.

"My parents sent me to the States from England to go to Medical school". You sighed, giving Negan exasperated glances and rubbing your forehead in animosity for him, but you let him continue with his fingers as you felt little goosebumps erupt where they trailed.

Negan nodded at you in silent encouragement, urging you to continue.

"I was here a few months before the world went to fuckin' shit. I tried to get back but...but all the flights were canceled to stop the spread of the infection and...Well the rest is history"

A sad story Rick had told you leaked into your mind, about the time he found an Irish woman living in the woods, trying to lure him in to feed him to her husbands head. You had sympathized with her, understanding how hard it was to just live, never mind survive in an unfamiliar land thousands of miles away from home.

"College? So you're what? Bout twenty-three now? He mused, counting his fingers.

"Something like that...who knows anymore, I'm still pretty south from you though, what are you like triple my age" You shrugged at him, looking at his face to gauge his age and noticing the silver streaking through his hair.

"Callin me old, doll?" Negan laughed, gently pinching your thumb when you reached over to pull a silver hair out.

"I bet I could still run fuckin rings around you, even at my fucking age...You'd struggle to keep up." He jibed, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

You chuffed gently, popping the tip of your thumbnail into your mouth and trying so hard not to roll your eyes.

"So what did you do before the apocalypse?" Negan inquired. He did seem genuinely interested which slightly confused you, he leaned back, his thumb resting on his cheek and index finger lounging on his bottom lip. His steady gaze willing you to answer.

"My parents had a farm....so when I was younger I'd help milk the cows, feed and groom the horses, keep the sheep together, run our dogs. I always made sure the house was tidy and dinner was on the table at night...But I wanted to be a Doctor. My parents had just sold a hefty piece of land and they saved some of the money to pay for college in the states" You said, tightening your now loose ponytail to keep the memories at bay.

"I can imagine you as a farmyard fuckin Annie! Strapped up in dungarees and wellington's, fuckin adorable. Cookin and cleanin too, fuckin wife material right there." He laughed, slapping your thigh and making sure your knees touched.

"Well how about you, Negan? What were you before you were Sauron, I mean leader of the Saviors"? You inquired, leaning your elbow on the backrest and raising your eyebrow to him.

"If I'm not mistaken, doll. I'm the one asking the questions here. This is YOUR career day and I need to get a better feel for ya...Definitely, need to get a better feel of ya" He winked suggestively and looked you up and down lazily.

You rolled your eyes and he smirked, gently kicking your foot and clicking his tongue.

"So! What are you good at, Sweetheart. Besides milkin cows and groomin horses...Wait-wait is it actually like in the movies where you squeeze the tit and the milk squirts out?"

"Eughh...-Udder. Its called an udder, Negan. And no we had mechanical milkers, I didn't sit on a little wooden stool singin Willie Nelson tunes, milking el' gertrude as she chewed a daisy if that's what you think".

You hated people laughing at your previous profession.

"OOOoohh, someones gettin a little testy" Negan exclaimed, holding his hands out in mock self-defense and pressing his lips outwards.

"Are those panties of yours in a twist?" he laughed

"Jesus, Negan. You're exhausting..." You exhaled, shaking your head at his goading.

"I'm a damn good shot, if you must know." You said suddenly serious, straightening up and placing your hands so they shot an imaginary bullet, careful not to point it in his direction.

"Me and that rifle you took of me go way back, I hit my targets right between the eyes with my revolver too. I NEVER miss..."

"Is that so, princess?...Who taught you to shoot?"

The tension suddenly returned to your shoulders.

"A man called Shane...He was Rick's police partner and a firearms instructor. It was actually him and Lori, Rick's wife, that saved my life. They found me on the highway...I was behind them in my car. Carl was hungry, so I shared my Lucozade and Sandwich with him. Lori took pity on me and asked me to join them...at first, I thought it was just because I had food and medicine but...even if it was they did more for me than I ever could do for them at that time.

Negan was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket, but quickly moved his hand away when it caught your attention.

"This was way back...Back when we lived on the farm with Hershel...Urmm Maggies dad?"

"What kind of a name is fuckin' Hershel? How old was he? fuckin hundred?"

"Oi!" You snapped, shooting him a dirty look.

"Hershel was a good man, he saved Carl and T-Dogs life, we got along well. I helped him with his cows and horses, he was so..."

You trailed off and glanced at Negan, unwilling to share this personal tidbit of information. Hershel's story wasn't one to be told to a man like this.

"So where are Shane and Hershel now" Negan inquired, his voice deep and drawling.

"Skeletons in a field somewhere". You whispered quietly.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness wash over you, chewing the inside of your mouth and gazing out of the window.

"Carry on" Negan interrupted, slowly blinking and patting your elbow to divert your attention to him. You subconsciously rubbed your hand over the spot he had touched.

"Urm...And I'm good at finding things...There's nothing left in this world worth taking that isn't well hidden, as Glenn would have said. Scavenging is a like a work of art. And I use wide brush strokes...I can bandage and suture too, put up an I.V, clean and disinfect wounds. I'm knowledgeable about drugs, what antibiotics to use, what dosage of pain relief should be given...How to treat swelling and inflammation, how to...Well, you get the picture. A woman called Denise taught me, I mentioned I was going to be a Doctor and she took me under her wing. She's our chief medic...Or was before that twat Dwight put an arrow through her fuckin eye, cowardly fucker hiding in the bushes with a crossbow. I hope Eugene bit his shriveled dick o-"

"Whoa, ho, ho take it fuckin' easy" Negan exclaimed, firmly placing his hand on your upper thigh.

You shot him a don't even think about it kind of look.

"As I was saying..." You began, placing your hand on top of his and brushing it off

"I'm a good shot, a good scavenger, a medic and I...I can walk with the walkers".

"You can what with the fucking What?!" He questioned, slightly jumping like he'd sat on a tack.

"Walk with the walkers" You uttered in a matter of fact tone with a raised brow.

"After the Governor destroyed the prison I-"

Negans eyebrow raised and he cut you off "The Governor?"

"Trust me...Loonng story, it's a bit ironic that I'm mentioning him to a guy like you. You remind me of him in some ways, I don't know who's worse. Just don't put an eye patch on or stand on a tank...Anyway, after the prison, I was on my own for a little while. I got separated from the others, there was a massive heard behind me and dozens of stray ones ahead. I was exhausted and I couldn't run anymore. So I decided to grab a lone one and...bathe in its viscera. I first saw Rick and Glenn do it when we were scavenging in Atlanta".

Negan rumpled his nose in disgust like a toxic smell had wafted up it.

"Here me out...It worked and they couldn't 'see' me. I walked slow and bumbled along, they never even knew I was there. Sometimes there can be something really valuable in the middle of dozens, even hundreds. I've developed a little trick to get said valuable from right under their rotting noses and not be noticed. Its risky as fuck, but I'm not dead yet".

You looked pleased with yourself and clapped your hands on your legs like you had got a question right in class.

"Damn, doll. You keep on peaking my fucking interest, I'm not surprised you've lasted this long. You're a fucking bad ass, a right feisty little Vixen".

You couldn't help but smile at his comment as you stretched right out over the arm of the sofa, quickly sitting back up when you realized you had just exposed all your vital parts to a man as volatile as a cranky Gator.

"Negan, why do you wanna know about me? Why's it matter to you?".

He cricked his neck and licked his lips, letting the arm he had resting behind you slouch over your shoulders and rest across your collarbone.

"Well, doll. I cant just let you sit on your peachy ass all day, there's no room for slackers here. That shit DOESN'T fly! I need to put you to use, it'd be a shame to let you go to waste." Negan said bluntly as you watched him carefully.

"I can't trust you enough to be on your own for long, and I sure as fuck can't let you near any guns". He mumbled to himself.

He turned his body away from you and stretched out his legs in front of him, removing his arm from your shoulders as his hand cupped his chin, his eyes misting over in thought.

He clicked his fingers and turned back to face you in a lightbulb moment.

"I've fucking got it, ya wanna hear?"

"Give it to me then" You chimed, internally groaning at the suggestiveness of your words.

He smiled wide and you scrunched your eyes.

"Sure thing, sugar. But if you want it you'll have to make the first fuckin move."

You shot him a semi-dirty look and huffed.

"Tsk-fine" He replied, swishing your pony tail. "There's three options available to you. Door one, two and fucking three. You better choose wisely, Honey. Once you open one fucking door the others will seal tighter than a clams fuckin ass".

You grinned at his comment, blowing an amused puff of air through your nose. Negan noticed and flicked your arm playfully with his fingers.

"Glad I amuse you, sweetheart".

"So door number fucking one. You can go back to your cold, dark, dingy as shit cell. Which would really suck...After a while, you'd become like one of those subterranean monsters and use sound to fuckin' hunt. I mean you're pale now but you'd be fucking translucent after a few more weeks in there... All on your own, your only company Dwight and his waffle lookin' face."

You upturned your lip at the thought of it and shuffled uncomfortably, turning away to pine at the door exit, but he gently tilted your chin for you to look back at him.

"Door number fucking two. In the sanctuary we operate on a basic system...work for points...You do shit in exchange for shit. You can clean toilets, mop floors, scrape dirty dishes, maintain the fence, work guard duty...You get the fucking picture. Points buy you all your fucking knick knacks and shit, everything from cigarettes to a new pair of shiny boots. Two meals a day and water are provided, because I'm such a generous, ruggedly handsome as fuck humanitarian... Thirsty and hungry people are dangerous and they don't work well. The more points you get the more shit you can buy. My saviors get the most points going out on runs and guarding the perimeter. Simple."

You nodded your head, mulling over the offerings so far, the cell was definitely out of the question but cleaning toilets and scraping porridge off dishes sounded like salvation in comparison to more time in there. Fuck being in the cage like a bird.

"So...Whats behind door number three?" You asked innocently.

Negan smiled his wolfish grin, smacking your knee playfully and standing up, grabbing Lucille and propping her on his shoulder while straightening his jacket where it had bunched.

"It's better if I fucking show you". He reached his hand out to you to help you up and you took it begrudgingly, noticing how your hand fit in his perfectly and Lifted yourself to your feet, you straightened out your sweater but a heavy glance from Negan made you shift your feet.

"Come on then, gorgeous! I think you'll like this, you'll fit right in."

You walked to his side and he put his arm around your shoulders, disliking how close Lucille was to the back of your head.

"Out of curiosity, you got a lucky number?" Negan questioned

You narrowed your eyes and frowned, unsure of this line of questioning.

"A lucky number?" You asked inquiringly, as a strand of your hair was pulled out by Lucille's barbs.

"Yeah, a lucky fucking number! Did I stutter or are you hard of fuckin' hearing?".

"Jesus!...Yeah...I do actually. Number six, I was born on the sixth..." You trailed

"Oh, ha-ha fucking perfect! It's MEANT to be. You can be my lucky number six". He singsonged, shoving your head into his shoulder.

"lucky number 6? What'd ya mean?"

"Patience, sweetheart" Negan crooned, gently tugging again at the ponytail on the back of your head.

He walked towards the door and opened it and you followed behind him. Curious now, you wanted to ask him where he was taking you. But you kept your mouth shut and followed.

He reached out his arm for you to take, and you linked your arm with his, side-eyeing him slyly.

Remember what curiosity did to the Cat.