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weareallnegan (weareallnegan) wrote,

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.