I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Points

This looked like a little community in itself and Blake spotted the same sort of faces here as she had done the previous day in the dinner hall. Many older people, who looked they were not able to fight, as well as a lot of younger kids that certainly were not old enough to handle themselves out there.

This indeed certainly looked like a safe haven for people like that.

Was it Negan who had really built all this?

But before Blake's thoughts could dwell so much on the annoying leader of the Saviours, she saw the man himself appear through the crowd of people.

He was taller than most, and so easily spottable in that leather jacket, biker boots and barbed-wire covered baseball-bat combo.

"Well don't you look like a million bucks all spruced up, like you're ready for a day out at the mall," he said flashing her a grin as the crowd of people before him parted, bowing their heads and staring down at the ground nervously.

Blake rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest as he approached her.

"Is this your mall?" she said in a mocking tone, offering him a simpering look. Behind them Dwight sauntered away obviously having work of his own to attend to.

But Negan merely eyed her, coming to stop just a foot away from her, swinging Lucille up and across his shoulder.

"I guess you could say that," he said flashing her an approving smile. "But at this mall, you don' need to pay for anythin'. Anythin' you want, Doll-face, is on me."

He placed his free hand to his chest graciously. But Blake wasn't so convinced.

She narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired man.

"Why?" she said pursing her lips, keeping her arms folded across herself a little defensively.

But Negan chuckled, arching his back and leaning in towards her.

"Soft spot, Peaches," he merely uttered with a chuckle, his hand coming to rest at her back.

He urged her forwards. "How 'bout we take a walk?"

Blake gave an audible huff, that only served to make Negan chuckle, and followed him, gazing around the room at the various vendors working behind each of the 'stalls'..

There was one for freshly baked bread, one for medicine, one for canned goods...amongst a lot of others Blake couldn't quite yet make out over the hustle and bustle of people.

"You've built up quite an empire for yourself," she said a little offishly, feeling slightly irritable. "Nice to see that you've built your success off the back of others."

"Now, now, sweetheart," said Negan, his hand never leaving her back. "Do not fuckin' start all that again."

Blake gave a grumble, stopping for a moment to admire a stall full of knives, guns and utensils from afar, before moving on to the next stall beside it, full of tattered old clothes, sock, pants, overcoats, thinking guiltily to the closet full of brand new clothes she had upstairs.

Negan stopped beside her, watching her carefully, but Blake didn't care.

To her left, a skinny looking woman with short greying hair, wearing a vest approached, picking up a large woolly sweater and turning it over in her hands.

"H-How much?" she stuttered nervously to the stall-holder, one eye on Negan.

The grumpy looking woman behind the stall, about Blake's age with tied back brown hair chewing gum, looked up from her ledger uninterestedly.