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Gretel (_gretel) wrote,

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."