control . negan

04; king

"You like it?" He raised his brow, wrinkles on his forehead creasing in fine lines. Winona took a hesitant step forward and pinched at her arm, a nervous habit. Biting down on her bottom lip, she nodded her head in the slightest.

"It's nice," she murmured, gaze flickering around the wide space. She couldn't take her eyes off the ample bed, black comforter with white sheets and pillows littering the head post, seeming brand new and spotless. She couldn't remember that last time she'd slept in a bed of that size.

"Fit for a king?" He rolled back on his heels and formed a regal pose. His eyebrows raised which Winona found he did quite often with his remarks.

"You could say that," she mumbled, pinching the ends of her shirt. Running her tongue over her top lip, she gave one last glance to the bed and stepped forward, meeting the eye of the leader. A grin was painted on his lips and didn't seem to falter in the slightest since the moment she'd walked through the doors.

"We need to talk," she said as a matter of factly. Negan leaned on his heel and stuck the tip of his tongue between his front teeth. Her gaze dipped down to the laces of his boots.

"Yeah. We do," he breathed, inching forward. He jerked the bat he gripped between his fingers. "I want you to tell me a little bit about yourself."

Winona creased her eyebrows and shifted her gaze to the man. His tongue poked at his cheek and his eyes gleamed in a sardonic manner. "I'm not here to tell you about myself, Negan."

Negan smirked and dropped his gaze to her lips. "I would do what I fuckin' said if you knew what was best for you."

Chills ran down the length of Winona's spine. She arched her back and rubbed her fingers along her tender arm flesh. A hint of anger boiled inside of her, but she figured she was in no such place to be arguing with the man. "Fine. Alright, I have a sixty-eight year old grandmother. I- um," she bit her lip, squinting her eyes. "I don't know, Negan. I, uh, my best friend's name is Rick, he was my neighbor before all this."

Negan gave an impatient sigh and pivoted on his heel, raising his finger in the air. "I know that shit, darling. I read your fucking book, don't forget. I want to know what you did before all this."

Winona shifted on her feet, the muscles in her face tightening as she ran a palm down the bridge of her nose and over her chapped lips. "I was in high school." Her shoulders jerked.

"High school, huh?" His lips twitched upward, hand scratching at his coarse beard. "Fuckin' high school. What were you, a senior?" She gave a slight nod of the head and he continued. "A senior. Alright. Good grades?"

"Negan-" she shook her head vigorously, suddenly getting impatient. "Why the hell do you care?"

"I need to know if you're smart." He jerked the tip of his bat in her direction and tugged his lip with his teeth, inching forward. "So tell me, Winona." His name rolled off her tongue with a mellifluous tone. "Were you an apt fuckin' pupil? Straight A's?"

Shifting impatiently, she tilted her gaze to the window. "I was average."

"Fucking shame. You have a job?" He asked, stroking the length of his jaw.

"Not much. I just babysat Rick's kid," she said with an exasperated sigh. Negan seemed to perk up. "It doesn't matter. Look, I've got to-"

"Interesting." He cut her off, standing erect with the base of Lucille just lightly grazing the carpet. Her eyes flickered to the barbaric weapon and then back up to man, creasing her eyebrows and crossing her arms. She had absolutely no idea what he was getting at, but the enigma of it all sent goosebumps across her whole body.