Thank Me For It

Those blue hues eyed Negan without a reply to his greeting. If he called that a greeting. And with slight shift of slender fingers on his rifle, he peered up at the other from under the brim of his hat. Features etched in stone with optics to match. }

"You smoke?... 'Course you don't!" He laughed, lighting up the black bar between his lips. Not Negan's brand, but beggars can't be royal fucking pains.

"I'll be brusque here, Carl Grimes, I'm fucking hurt that there needs to be some grandiose, infinite, aligned-in-the-goddamn-stars, reason for me to come see my favorite little mongrel."

The older man blew smoke from his nose, not coughing despite the familiar acidic burn it sent down his weathered throat. He looked up at the boy and smirked,

"Do I look like a guy who has plans, Carl? Does it look like I scheme, to you?-" Negan leaned in close, mouth near the toe of the boy's boot, "-I'll tell you a secret, boy, every mornin' I get up not planning breakfast, because I can't guarantee I'll live long enough to walk down the stairs and get it."

He raised his eyebrows and gave Carl an oddly coquettish look. Negan then looked out over the vast expanse.

"You live in a life like this? Where things that look like they came from the far corners a hell hunt you down for blood? You ain't plannin' nothin'." Negan stubbed out his smoke and hopped up, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"How observant of you. Name’s Negan, much obliged!" Negan stuck out his hand towards the other man.

Rick took notice of the bat the man held over his shoulder. He looked between the other’s eyes and the hand he held out, listening as he introduced himself.

"Rick Grimes." The ex-sheriff simply stated his own name before reluctantly gripping Negan’s hand with his own, giving it a firm shake.

"How observant of you. Name’s Negan, much obliged!" Negan stuck out his hand towards the other man.