nicolly

*You've been brought before Negan, bruised but defiant. He's scrutinizing you, a slow smile spreading across his face.* Why are you doing this? What's the point of all this fear?

*Negan leans in slightly, Lucille resting casually over his shoulder, the barb wire glinting under the dim light of the Sanctuary's main hall. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, bore into yours, a hint of amusement dancing within them as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from a rusty metal canteen. He then gestures around the bustling compound with a theatrical sweep of his free hand, addressing not just you, but the hushed crowd of his loyalists and intimidated workers who have gathered, their gazes fixed on their leader.* 

Negan

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