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Gretel ([info]_gretel) wrote,
@ 2016-11-29 19:20:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Negan/Gretel first meeting
It'd been a long timeless couple months for the 'residents' of the hotel- with six solid weeks of nothing but that infernal Fog stretching on like it would be forever. The normally replenishing food failed to restock, dwindling fast between those who hadn't disappeared. Tensions were high, fears were even higher as rationing became more desperate, and the thought of actual starvation began to set in. Then the clock chimed twelve hours to the second that the last bit of food had been consumed, and brilliant sunshine and tropical heat replaced the dark mist outside the hotel doors. They had finally jumped, apparently to an deserted paradise. The kitchen filled itself again, and life went on- as normal as it could possibly be, in any case.

Then as regular clockwork, the hotel made it's move again, leaving the tropical island behind for more fog. Tensions went right back up. They were all wondering if the hotel would try to starve them again, so the rations were set that very first day. That's why Gretel was particularly concerned when she found the kitchen in a state of...disarray the next morning. Things hadn't just been moved or left out; things were missing- in particular, a bucket of chocolate ice cream. Living with the same food list that magically appeared every seven days for more than five years- she knew the kitchen inventory down to the last fucking pea. Either someone had decided to go against the group decision- which was bad enough- or someone new had made an appearance in the hotel. Her gut was saying the latter, and Gretel always trusted her gut. It was never wrong.

Just as a precaution, she sent her brother a message on the PDA letting him know they had a new resident somewhere in the building, then she went on the search herself. The first place on her list was the lounge- newcomers almost always ended up there first. She approached the doorway with caution, pressed close to the wall to peek around the corner. Sure enough, there was a figure she didn't recognize, the line of his back and right shoulder at an angle toward where she watched. There was a weapon in his belt, as well as the obvious one he kept switching from ground to shoulder- the heavy club wrapped in sharp metal, but at least it seemed like he was alone. Alone with the chocolate ice cream...

Gretel sighed quietly, then dropped her crossbow from her shoulder into firing position. Better to be cautious.

"Hands up high. Now." She announced her presence calmly, but firmly. The iron arrow tip was locked and aimed at the back of his skull. "They move anywhere else, you'll have a bolt through your eye."


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[info]weareallnegan
2016-11-29 09:56 pm UTC (link)
Negan had come to learn to accept a lot of things in his life. With the way the world just up and fucked itself, it was either figure it out, or get fucked along with it; he chose the former. It was what had gotten him as far as he had, with his own community, people who followed him, and all of the good things that were left to be had in life. There were some things he couldn't let slide, though. Things like being disrespected, getting an answer he didn't like, being made to wait-

Waking up in a hotel with no memory of how the hell he'd gotten there, though? Apparently fine to let slide.

The way he looked at it, there wasn't much he could do. He was in some fancy Hotel Kairos, with a PDA that wasn't just a useless piece of shit, somewhere that the dead were nowhere to be seen. He had wifi, he had Lucille, and apparently, he had a kitchen that was free to his disposal. If anything, this was a major fucking upgrade. Either he could start trying to figure out where he was, why he was there, and who he was with, or he could get himself whatever the hell kind of food he could find. Granted, finding the kitchen took some exploring to begin with, so he took in his surroundings as he navigated his way through the hotel.

Because he was a responsible fucking adult who knew how to maintain a proper diet, Negan chose the only logical option from the kitchen: the biggest damn tub of chocolate ice cream he'd seen in years. He'd been able to cope with not having things like ice cream once shit hit the fan by telling himself it was okay, because neither did anyone else. But now? There was a huge, childish part of him which was all too satisfied with carrying a tub of chocolate ice cream in one hand, and Lucille in the other, resting on his shoulder. His next stop was anywhere with alcohol, which brought him somewhere he thought he'd never get to go again - a bar.

Well. Almost a bar. Did it count if it was a hotel bar with no bartender? It didn't matter. What mattered was there was scotch, and glasses, and ice, and he was going to enjoy as many scotches on the rocks and as much ice cream as he wanted. He was one drink in and halfway through a spoonful of ice cream when he was rudely interrupted by someone who clearly thought way too highly of themselves.

"Mmm..." He dragged the sound out for a second as he pulled his spoon out of his mouth. Rather than do what she said, he took a slow sip from his glass of scotch, sighing contentedly. "It'd be really fucking rude to shoot someone who's just trying to eat some ice cream." He left Lucille where she was at the moment, resting against the bar at his feet, and turned in his stool so he could face her, and damn he wasn't disappointed.

"Ho-ly shit," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he chuckled. "You look like something right outta my highschool spank bank." Then, his expression changed, as if something had occurred to him. "Fuck, am I dead? Is that what's happening here? 'Cause if it is..." He shrugged, and then he was grinning again, a devilish glint in his eye. "This isn't too bad."

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[info]_gretel
2016-11-29 10:17 pm UTC (link)
Gretel wouldn't have had the foggiest idea what a 'spank bank' was if she hadn't met a certain man with the last name of Winchester, probably sleeping off his own bottle of Scotch right now in his room. And lucky her, the modern hunter had used the phrase in the same context as this newcomer. Who was obviously going through the normal 'what the fuck' stages of finding themselves here... and who still didn't have his hands up.

No, she hadn't planned on shooting him right out the gate, but she sure as hell would if he went for that gun she could see peeking out from his belt.

"No, you're not dead-" The Yet was faintly implied in her voice, and the steady aim she had on his head. "I'd rather not make you that way, either- but there are a lot more people here a lot less polite than me who won't take kindly to someone eating their share of that ice cream- so let me lay this out for you as plainly as possible. You don't remember how you got here, and you don't know how to get back to where you came from, right?"

As a show of somewhat good will, Gretel lowered her cast iron and wood weapon to belly-level- though her half-gloved finger was still on the trigger. She nodded at his belt, but kept her eyes trained on his face. He had a wild look... like a crazed king. This might be tricky. "Take the bullets out of that thing, put them in your pocket, and we'll go from there."

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-11-30 01:46 pm UTC (link)
Raising an eyebrow, Negan looked down at the ice cream. Someone else's share? It didn't have their name on it. Frowning, he ate another spoonful, seemingly unconcerned with whatever she had to say. He was already pretty sure he wasn't actually dead, and he was more preoccupied with the fact that someone else thought the ice cream he was eating belonged to them. At the mention of his gun, he waved a hand dismissively.

"Ah, I'm not gonna shoot you," he said, and instead went to reach to an inside pocket of his jacket. As he moved, though, he noticed how closely he was being watched, and he paused with his hand just at his zipper, grinning. Again. "Damn, look at you. You're watching me like a hawk. What the fuck happened to you?" Sighing, he raised his hands, his movements over-emphasized and dramatic. "I'm slowly... going to put my hand... on my gun... and take it off my belt." When he spoke, his tone was quiet and patronizing. He unholstered his gun, unloaded the bullets into his hand, and stuck them in his pocket.

"Now. Where was I..." Reaching back into his jacket again, he pulled out a permanent marker, something he carried with him for just such an occasion. Biting off the cap, he grabbed the lid from the tub of ice cream, scrawling something on it and setting it back down again. He did the same thing with the bottle of Scotch he'd opened, and when he set it down, NEGAN was written in big, black letters. "There. Now it's my share."

Satisfied, he capped his marker again, picked up his glass of scotch, and knocked the rest back.

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[info]_gretel
2016-11-30 02:40 pm UTC (link)
He didn't get an answer to that first way open ended question, partly because she didn't feel like explaining the thousand reasons why she was so ...observant. She could tell he would probably have used the word 'jumpy', but it made her wonder the same thing about him. The people that showed up in this place had telling way of representing the world they came from, and a place where a man with eyes like his, carrying weapons like those out in the open... Gretel had been in this hotel long enough to assume a few things.

His patronizing tone wasn't something new to her, either- though not here. Not usually. She didn't bother fighting the smirk it put on her lips.

"I'm glad it's so easy for you to find this place so comfortable," she said, flatly. Her sarcasm was genuine, but it also hid her anxiety. Her gut told her to be wary of him. At least for now. Her eyes flicked to the name he'd written. Negan. "Have you realized you're stuck here yet? Or," she guessed after a bit of a pause. "...is it an upgrade for you."

Because she'd seen that before, too- and he certainly seemed to fit the bill.

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-11-30 03:17 pm UTC (link)
At least she'd confirmed his suspicions, but that was it. Something about not remembering how he'd gotten there, and seeing nothing but fog when he looked out the windows, told him he was stuck, but she'd hit the nail right on the head. "It is one giant ass motherfucker of an upgrade," he said enthusiastically, before tossing his empty glass over his shoulder and clapping his hands together as it shattered to pieces somewhere behind him. "There's ice cream, there's Scotch," he paused, and smiled at her. "And apparently there are hot women with fancy ass weapons."

Anything beat the hordes of dead assholes he'd been dealing with. They were more pests than anything, at this point, but they'd taken away everything good in the world, or at least most of the good things. Here, Negan had gotten his two favorites within fifteen minutes of waking up.

"This hotel beat the shit out of my old life, pissed on it, and threw it in a dumpster," he said, grabbing another glass, because what kind of civilized person drank out of a bottle, and pouring himself another drink. "No, sorry, it fucked it, then set that shit on fire. It took it to church. My old life's off somewhere, watching from the window, jerking off and crying to itself 'cause it wants me back so bad." Chuckling, he was about to drink from his glass, before he looked over at her.

"Hold on. Where the fuck are my manners?" He sighed dramatically, reaching over the bar to grab yet another glass, and gestured to the stool next to him. "Sit. Let's have some of my Scotch and you can tell me all the rules you guys have that you think I should follow, and I'll pretend I'm listening." He poured her a drink, a rather generous one, and slid the glass over. "And, if you don't mind my cooties, I'll even share my ice cream." With that, he winked at her, and ate another spoonful.

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[info]_gretel
2016-11-30 03:46 pm UTC (link)
Well that was...descriptive. He had a way with words, she gave him that. Also got the impression Negan liked to hear himself talk, and whereever he'd come from- he'd been high enough on the food chain to indulge. Everything he touched, he claimed, both literally and in personality. That was going to get messy...

Gretel sent a quick glance toward the lounge door, toward the hall that lead past the pool, the lobby, and toward the elevator. Hansel would be out searching the hotel for the newcomer she'd told him about- but he wouldn't make it to the ground floor for a while. If he was even awake, he would've started on the top floor and worked his way down to her. The others probably weren't even out of bed yet. There'd been a lot of celebrating in paradise before the jump.

"It's not our rules- that's something you'll learn about soon enough." There was a sigh in her voice, giving it a strange mixture of apology for what he'd find himself involved in, and being unimpressed with his bravado. She'd seen a good number of arrogant assholes come and go in this place- all of them torn down from their personal pedestals eventually. But she believed he wasn't going to shoot her- he'd be pretty stupid to try it, and she got the impression Negan was more intelligent than he liked people to think. She set the crossbow on her shoulder and closed the distance between them- but she didn't take the glass he'd poured for her.

She took the bucket of ice cream.

"Keep the scotch- it won't melt," she said light and dry, but her eyes held all the challenge. They were firm on his face as she snapped the lid back on the tub, either daring or warning him not to cross that line with her. She wanted this to be civil, but she wasn't going to be walked over. She rounded the edge of the bar and stuffed the tub in the small cold-box beneath. "Whatever world you came from, this place can just as bad-" she promised. "That fog is endless- when it's there, if you walk out, you'll either walk straight back in, or disappear all together. Every seventy two hours- usually- the big clock chimes and the front doors will lead somewhere else. Sometimes it's good, sometimes... not."

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-11-30 05:44 pm UTC (link)
The whine that Negan let out when she took the bucket from him was almost comical. Not fair. But, all the same, he'd let it go for now. He'd already had enough to make himself happy, anyway. Given he was on his third glass of Scotch now, too, he was more willing to let some things slide. He couldn't be bothered to cause a stir over ice cream. Besides, he cared more about the Scotch.

"Good, bad, whatever, this place makes my place look like a steaming shit pile." There was something in her tone that told him she wasn't exaggerating, though, even if he was convinced this was better. That seemed like a big problem best left for Future Negan to deal with. "Where I come from, most people would suck some mean dick to get stuck in a teleporting hotel on drugs." Most people he knew, anyway. He'd met some people recently who might have actually preferred being surrounded by dead skinbags with their loved ones than dragged into the unknown, like the unknown was really that much more terrifying.

"If you're trying to get me to piss my pants, it's not gonna happen, so you can stop. I'm happy here, and I don't need you giving me blue balls about it." There was something less humorous in his tone, now: he was serious. Even if this ended up being worse than where he was already, he wanted to enjoy it, at least for now. He'd only just gotten there. He picked up the glass he'd poured for her and held it up, raising an eyebrow. "I'm more than happy to talk, but I'm not talking ominous future shit with you. Either sit, have a drink, and tell me all about what cr-aaazy world you got plucked outta, or let me enjoy my free wifi in peace."

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[info]_gretel
2016-11-30 06:06 pm UTC (link)
"I believe you," she said outright and honest, slinging her arm through the strap of her crossbow so it sat across her back. People from shit-worlds like he very pointedly described were dangerous, but they were usually better at self-preservation. He was in as much mind for pointless violence as she was. At least, for now. "But let's run with that logic- hm? Why the fuck would I care about trying to make you 'piss your pants'?"

It said a lot about him- about what he was used to, and what he expected, and no- she didn't blame him. After all, she had greeted him with an arrow pointed at his face, so her tone wasn't sarcastic or accusatory. The serious shift his voice had taken told her more about what she already assumed with him- he was definitely more intelligent and planning than some brute who decided everything he wanted was his, on sight. She appreciated the glimpse of honesty, whether he had intention with it or not.

She was just explaining. For his benefit as much as her own, and the rest of them.

"Newcomers tend to go batshit here within the first week, so forgive me for giving you some heads up." Enter Gretel's brand of sarcasm, which was dry as the Scotch she could smell on his breath. She also took him up on the offer, scooped up the healthy glass he'd poured, and downed half of it without even a grimace. Alcohol here was smooth as water compared to what she'd grown up on. "But fine. You've got about twenty minutes before my brother finds us, and he's not as friendly." She looked at him pointedly, explaining with arched brows and a very subtle matter-of-fact smirk. "That's not a threat. Unless you make it one. Just saying I'm your best bet to get a good idea what you're dealing with here, so it's up to you." He could either keep playing devil-may-cry dumb, or use this as an opportunity. It wasn't likely she would offer the deal twice.

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-12-02 03:38 pm UTC (link)
Negan grinned when she finally took the Scotch from him, and was even more pleased (although, admittedly not surprised) at how easily she drank it. Badass women tended to be entirely badass, not just selectively. Plus, that meant he'd be getting some answers that didn't have to do with the hotel. Not that he wouldn't want those at some point, but he didn't need them right now. The first week would be spent relaxing and enjoying the nice things there before he had to worry about the bad shit.

"Believe me when I tell you, I'm not fucking concerned about whatever surprises this rabbit hole's got hiding," he said. He didn't startle easily, and anything would be better than the same old shit. The promise of her brother showing up didn't concern him. If anything, it would make things more fun. It did, however, stop him from pouring himself another drink. He was at just the right level of drunk at the moment, where he could be stupid and enjoy himself, but get his shit together if he needed to. If her brother came equipped with weapons like hers, he didn't want to be falling off his stool.

He knew he should get more information about the hotel. If it was bad enough for her to be making such a big deal out of, maybe it was bad. "Fine. We'll kill two birds with one stone," he said, and shrugged. "What's your name, and what's the worst thing this hotel's ever fucked you over with?" He was nothing if not direct.

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[info]_gretel
2016-12-02 03:57 pm UTC (link)
She believed him on that point, too- he probably had Hell behind him in whatever world brought him to the hotel. She didn't blame him for thinking that way. So many had been just like him- herself included. She just nodded, noncommitally; watching him, she drank a bit more, then rolled her lips of the honey and smoke residue of the whisky.

Then he asked his two questions, both seemingly simple. Gretel had had this conversation enough times to know better. Her jaw tightened a bit, like she was ready to take a punch.

"It's not one worst thing," she told him, trying to find a way to word it to convey the point as simply as possible. Not an easy thing. "Everything in this place doesn't work like it's supposed to- time, food, rest... and death. If you die in these walls - and you will - you wake up again later." The weight of experience had entered her voice, lowering it. She quickly tossed back the rest of the booze in her glass, and started pouring another. "- the memory of how you died still fresh as if it happened five minutes ago. Maybe when we have more time, I'll tell you my top five."

After she set the bottle back down, she pushed it lightly back toward him. "And my name is Gretel."

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-12-02 04:43 pm UTC (link)
Gretel's answer was... ominous, to say the least. The idea of dying wasn't really something that Negan would look forward to, but if they were going to come back anyway, did it matter? That was a question he'd set aside until it came up. Hopefully it wouldn't come up. But if the way Gretel spoke about it was any indication, it would. Maybe sooner rather than later.

No, definitely not worth thinking about just yet.

Any reaction he might've had to the first part of what she said went straight out the window when she said her name. "Gretel?" He grinned, looking her up and down. Then it occurred to him - she had a brother. A look of realization spread across his face. "Oh, no fuckin' way, is your brother's name Hansel? Please tell me his name's fucking Hansel." That would be just too goddamn perfect. He'd stumbled into a hotel with Hansel and fucking Gretel, who had a crossbow for whatever reason. Now he was intrigued.

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[info]_gretel
2016-12-02 04:51 pm UTC (link)
She saw at least some of the weight if what she'd just told him settle under his eyes. He was thinking about it- fighting it, but it was there. She didn't particularly like being the barer of that kind of news, but somehow she'd found herself part of Hotel Kairos's unofficial welcome brigade. Hansel said it was because she was too 'people-y'. She didn't disagree.

And there it was, gone in a flash with the mention of her name. He grinned, and before more words got out of his mouth, Gretel already knew where this was going. So he was another one who knew who she was. Fantastic. She downed another drink.

"Yes, my brother is Hansel," she informed him flatly, because he already knew that, and everything else she rattled off before he had to ask every single question. "Yes, we were almost eaten by a witch when we were kids. Yes, we burned her in her own oven... actually, I stabbed her a few times first, then we both shoved her in. Let me guess... this is a 'fairy tale' you were told as a child to warn you against strangers... am I close?"

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-12-02 06:58 pm UTC (link)
Negan's eyes lit up. "That's just un-fucking-real," he said, and laughed. It wasn't the weirdest thing he'd found out that day, but it was probably the best thing he'd heard in a damn long time. "Is that what the story's supposed to do? Jesus, you think they could've used something a little less fucked up than cannibalism." Something about the way she was dressed, and her crossbow, told him her version of the story was a lot more fucked up than the kid's version.

"So..." He leaned in, his expression serious, as was his tone. "Was the witch's house made of candy? And did she have a bunch of little fuckers in her yard that she turned into gingerbread?" Something told him he already knew the answers to those questions, but he still had to ask, if only to be a dick about it. Then, remembering he was supposed to be splitting his time, he added, "And what's the best thing that's happened to you here?"

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[info]_gretel
2016-12-02 07:15 pm UTC (link)
She had to admit, his reaction was slightly different than others when this subject came up. Most had about as much trouble associating her with reality as with the hotel itself- as if she were a fictional character that came to life- that was hard to wrap a mind around, she understood. This guy... Negan, or whatever the hell his name was, found it outright amusing. The follow-up questions were odd, too. Gretel eyed him and his strangely boisterous grin, wondering if she should be concerned about his ...glee.

"The house was made of candy, shortbread, to be exact-" she confirmed, her tone still flat, but her eyes were on his, sharpened by memory, and a very close study of his reaction to her next words. "And in all the years we spent afterward killing witches, we've seen children impaled, disemboweled, roasted, boiled, sewn together and skinned alive. But never turned into gingerbread."

After that walk through memory lane, it wasn't easy to switch gears to happy moments, but smirking to herself, she gave it a try.

"The best thing that happened to me wasn't even real... so I'm not sure it counts. It was a week-long dream, but to me it was a lifetime. A home, a husband. Children... grandchildren. And a peaceful death in a comfortable bed. Then I woke up."

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-12-02 08:14 pm UTC (link)
The same excited expression remained on Negan's face until she mentioned the children. Well, fuck. "Jesus. I was hoping for a no, but not that." That was fucked up. He and his men had killed kids before, but they'd never do that shit. Plus, it was one thing to kill kids as an accessory of war, but it was another to make them your only target. Besides, Negan didn't like killing kids, the same way he didn't like killing women. It only happened when he needed to prove a point.

As for the other part? It sounded nicer than he'd admit. It was something he'd never cared about having until it was taken away from him. It was also something he hadn't thought about in a long time, because that sort of life wasn't a possibility for anyone back home anymore.

"Something good's something good. No point reading into it." It said something about Gretel that that was the best thing that had happened to her. She wanted a normal life. After being stuck in this hotel for however long, he couldn't blame her. Speaking of...

"So how long have you been here?" This was starting to look like a permanent situation, something he was surprisingly... okay with. There wasn't much good to go back to. "And how many of us poor fucks are there?"

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[info]_gretel
2016-12-02 08:54 pm UTC (link)
Normally conversations about mutilated children didn't offer much opportunity for relief, but Gretel felt it when she watched the change in his face. He wasn't particularly horrified, nor did she expect him to be, given what little she knew about him and where he came from. But he didn't like it, and that was good enough for her- for now.

She nodded at his comment about not taking the good for granted, taking another small sip in the process. She definitely didn't. Anything that could be construed as a positive in this place, she appreciated to the umpteenth degree.

"Like I said, time is hard to follow here," she explained, glancing back up at him. She noted he wasn't drinking anymore. "Nearest I can tell, it's been five... maybe six years. Hansel and I have been here the longest of those left, and I couldn't tell you how many anymore. I've seen as many as a couple hundred before- then there was the time when Hansel and I didn't see another soul for two weeks. People have a tendency to disappear, either because they aren't back in the doors before the clock chimes, or they just..." She made a gesture with her hands, mimicking a small explosion. Translation: poof, gone.

"Tell me a little about where you came from..."

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-12-03 12:05 pm UTC (link)
Five or six years? So it at least had the potential to become permanent. He still wasn't sure if that was such a bad thing. There wasn't anyone he gave a shit about back home, and the home he would've really missed was long gone at this point. This was just another fucked up adventure in his shit show of a life. And regardless, there was no good way out, so there wasn't any point in getting his panties in a knot over it.

At her question, Negan snorted. Where he came from? Well...

"We got more dead people than live ones," he started. "And the dead ones don't know how to stay dead. They'll get right back up and bite your fucking face off." That was one way to put it, anyway. "If you get bit, you turn into one. If you die, you turn into one. Only way not to turn into one's to stay alive, and usually that ends up turning you into something else just as fucked up." He'd met some disturbed individuals along his travels.

"It's just a never-ending shit parade of fun."

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[info]_gretel
2016-12-04 02:47 pm UTC (link)
Walking, biting dead people? Gretel's head canted, just a small enough degree to show a flag of recognition had gone up in her head. Her brows pinched down toward her freckled nose. For a moment, said nothing, piecing things together in thought.

"A world ended by a plague that reanimates the dead," she parroted back to him, watching his face for mutual recognition. "I've known a handful of people that came from such a place. They've been here."

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-12-04 03:08 pm UTC (link)
Negan raised an eyebrow. "No, shit?" They could've been from anywhere. Literally. It wasn't that surprising that someone would've ended up there before him.

"My world's a big place. Guess it makes sense." He wondered if they'd been as happy with the change of scenery as he was. "Any of the poor fuckers left?" Not that he necessarily would've known them, even if there were.

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[info]_gretel
2016-12-04 03:21 pm UTC (link)
"There </i>was</i>..." Her eyes slid back toward the lounge door, not particularly looking for Hansel, but off in thought. Her nose wrinkled, trying to remember. "An archer. Spent most of his time in his room... I haven't seen him in a while."

Now she was a little concerned. During the starving time, so many had disappeared. It was hard to keep track- and remembering exactly who she did know was gone made her eyes a bit dull. She sighed and shook her head, moving on. "I'm not sure if he's still here or not. My brother and I were the only ones that showed up here from our world, and we arrived together. Then again, sometimes there have been large groups of people from the same place- family members, friends, enemies... all that show up at random times. It's impossible to make sense of any of it."

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[info]weareallnegan
2016-12-05 03:41 pm UTC (link)
An archer? Negan had known a guy with too much attitude and a crossbow, but there were probably dozens of other assholes just like him. Bows were a silent weapon with reusable ammo. They just made sense in his world. But if she hadn't seen him in a while, anyway...

"Well, if he's here, I'm sure he'll show back up at some point," he said, and shrugged. If it was Daryl, that might make things more interesting. Or it might make things a giant pain in the ass. He didn't have the same sort of leverage here that he did back home. The best thing for him would probably be if he had shown up alone.

"So, am I supposed to be sticking around until your brother gets here, or what? 'Cause I've got a fuckton more hotel to see, and there's a bed around here somewhere with my name on it."

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