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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]_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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