[ By the time they get back to the hotel, Carol's fingers and toes have grown back, though there's a frustrating itch deep under the skin, and she still uses her hand a little awkwardly. Cold's physical therapy excercises are helping more than she'd really expected them to, but it's a slow process.
Everyone seems to know all about the kidnapping, even those who hadn't been to the island at all. It's a level of attention and celebrity she doesn't want, especially now, and the first thing she does is find out what her new room assignment is so she can slip away as quickly as possible. She leans against the door as it shuts behind her, sagging in relief for about two seconds.
Then she spots the baseball bat leaning against the wall next to the couch.
[ Negan hadn't expected anyone to show up. For two weeks the place had basically been all his to do as he wanted. And boy has he lived it up with those demon maids who have been appearing. Negan has just finished a shower and doesn't even bother to get dressed, strutting on out in the buff. ]
Didn't think you'd be back for more so soon, darlin'. Would've held off on the shower if I knew--
[ He appears in the living room and makes eye contact with Carol who is actually the last person he expected to see. And...then it dawns on him that he's kind of hanging out in full view here. Negan takes a careful step behind the couch to allow for some form of modesty. ]
My bad. I thought you were someone else. Wait no, totally not an excuse. That wasn't okay. Definitely not cool. I'm sorry.
[ A pause as he looks toward her and takes her in. ]
[ She averts her eyes, not quickly enough. Carol's been married enough times not to be scandalized, but still. Not the sight she'd hoped to be greeted with when she finally got what she supposes is now home.
It's not until he's safely obscured behind the couch that she risks looking his way again, quirking an eyebrow at his blunt appraisal. The worst part is, she's sure he's right. ]
[ What does he say? Yeah, construction was tough doesn't really hold a candle to what she's apparently gone through. And he doesn't even know the half of it. It's just that there's a heaviness in her expression that speaks volumes. ]
I got some beef stew slow cooking in the oven. I'm pretty sure it was beef anyway, could be some weird demon cow for all I know. But should taste good all the same.
[ It was in the hotel kitchen, so it should be edible at the least. And he's got enough veggies and seasonings in it to make it palatable. ]
Get yourself cleaned up and into something cozy and I can fix us up some dinner. There's plenty. And I bet you're starving. Don't you worry, it ain't gonna be poison. I had to do a whole lot of the cooking back home when my wife was still alive.
[ It seems to be taking her a long time to process anything. She's still trying to come to terms with the fact that Negan is, apparently, her new roommate. And he's standing there completely naked, apparently perfectly comfortable, talking about...making dinner. And about his wife. She'd sort of assumed that neither of them would bring up anything they'd seen in that awful haunted house ever again. Or maybe that he'd just avoid her forever, after what he'd seen.
But here they are. And honestly, nothing sounds better right now than curling up in some fresh clothes and eating a homecooked meal. She finds herself nodding in agreement, surprising herself. ]
Okay.
[ And then she folds her arms over her chest, looking deliberately up at the ceiling. No way she's walking past the couch while he's still standing there. ]
Yeah, that is a damn good idea. I mean, not saying it's a bad view from any lady's perspective, but...
[ Negan flashes his trademark Negan grin, half charm and half smarm. He takes one of the pillows from the couch in front of him and uses it as a shield.
There's a lot of things he questions about Carol in lieu of the haunted house. He thought he had a good idea of what she was about, but maybe he doesn't? Maybe she's way more dangerous than even him. Or maybe they're both equally shitty. But he doesn't let it show. For as shitty as Negan could be, Carol had endured hell on that island. He can see it on her face, so he'll try to make it a little easier on her. Why? Because they're from the same world, and there's a flimsy alliance in that.
Negan wanders toward his chosen bedroom and throws on some clothes -- a loose fitting pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. In this damn hell heat, even he's not stupid enough to toss on his leather jacket. Negan lets Carol be so she can do what she needs to do as he goes and checks on the food, gives it a little stir and then takes the pot out of the oven -- dishing out two hearty portions and setting hers on the table while he settles onto the seat opposite of it.
If she wants company, he's here. If she wants to take the food and escape to her room, that's fine, too. He leaves that ball in her court. ]
[ Of course he can't just go without getting in one last comment. Carol rolls her eyes, but it's also so predictably obnoxious, so...weirdly normal, it almost makes her feel a little better.
She waits until he's safely disappeared behind one of the doors before opening a couple of the others, seeing what she's working with. The other bedrooms she checks are furnished but free of personal effects; it looks like it's just her and Negan here. Hell planning at its finest.
But there's hot, running water, too, and clean clothes - her own are a tattered mess, not even worth keeping. When she finally emerges, wrapped up in the softest pajamas she can find and lured out by the smell of hot stew, she's feeling slightly more human.
And she doesn't hesitate to sit down at the table across from Negan. He'd offered to share his food, he hasn't even been too much of a dick so far. She's not enough of an asshole to just take the bowl and retreat back to her room. They'll have to learn to live with each other eventually, anyway.
She picks up her spoon and takes a bite, not sure what to expect, but looks up at him in surprise as she swallows. ]
[ Negan does his best not to stare as she settles down and tucks in. An odd sort of nostalgia grips him, reminding him of the tense dinners he and his wife shared prior to the apocalypse or her cancer diagnosis. Back when he lost his job and she was the sole breadwinner in their home. He forces the thought away because it doesn't really have a place here. ]
Yeah, the rosemary really comes through. Compliments the thyme.
[ He takes a bite and sets his spoon to the side, taking the pitcher of water from the center of the table to pour himself a glass. ]
I assume you'll probably wanna lay down some ground rules, right? With us sharing this place and all. I promise all the ladies I bring back will be brought strictly to the bedroom and not out in the common area.
[ The whole thing feels a little familiar to Carol, too. Not that Ed had ever made dinner. Or shown any real interest in her own cooking, except to berate her when it, for whatever reason, wasn't up to his standards. ]
I never tried it with thyme.
[ But ground rules are really the last thing she wants to think about right now. She just nods in agreement, clearly distracted and looking down at her stew instead of up at Negan. ]
Mmhmm.
[ Her fingers and toes have grown back, with no outward sign they'd ever been missing, but they still ache a little. And she's never stopped being aware of the tattoo on her chest. It doesn't hurt anymore, but she can't help feeling like there's something wrong with it. Like she'd been marked with more than just ink.
She sets her spoon down to stretch her fingers, unconsciously raising her hand to rub at the tattoo under her shirt as she looks up at Negan. ]
What?
slides in here late. If you want to drop this, we can!
[ Yeah. Something is definitely off. His eyes linger on Carol for an uncomfortable moment before he looks back down at his stew, stirring it idly. There's another moment where he contemplates leaving things lie -- continuing to act like things are just peachy and normal and there's not some storm cloud hanging over them, that it hasn't been there since the haunted house. But ultimately, that is never his style. ]
We can talk about it if you want.
[ An offer. He gives her the option to refuse, which he's sure she's going to take. But if she wants to go on and on about how much hell sucks, how much that island sucked, what happened that's got her so unfocused and out of it -- he gives her that option, too. He doesn't like seeing Carol like this. He doesn't like seeing her without her bite. ]
'Cause if you bottle this shit in...
[ If she bottles this shit in, maybe some other kid's gonna die or something. He doesn't know. She couldn't be around people....Carol had tried to explain. He shoves a bite in his mouth to give him time to think of a proper ending for that sentence. Chew, chew. Swallow. ]
If you bottle this shit in, it's gonna compound. You're gonna break. And I get it, maybe I'm not the guy you wanna talk to about it. There's people here you trust way more. But also, maybe I'm exactly the guy you wanna talk to about it for that same reason.
[ Less of a chance of him overreacting. Less of a chance of him coddling her unnecessarily. ]
[ Carol's silent, picking at her stew. She doesn't know what she wants. Is bottling it up really that bad? She's bottled up so much else in her life, why not this?
Because that had always worked out so well, right?
She shakes her head, still gazing down at her food. He's right that he's just about the last person she'd think to seek out to talk to. About anything. But he also hadn't been there, a hallucination or deception cooked up just to torment her specifically. She hadn't had to watch him cutting pieces off of her while she screamed in pain and begged him to stop.
She can't say the same for Rick and Daryl.
A shudder goes through her at the memory, and she curls her foot protectively under her chair, tucking her right hand securely into her lap. Logically, she knows that she's safe. That it's over. That it had never really been Rick or Daryl or Ezekiel torturing her.
But there's a big difference between knowing that and believing it.
A single tear trickles down her cheek, and she makes a quiet, unhappy sound, raising her hand again to wipe it away. ]
Talking won't fix it.
[ It's a harsh, angry half-whisper, the first hint she's shown of her old self. ]
[ They're both old enough to know there's no magic fix to problems. It's all about how strong your will is in these apocalyptic days to keep you together, to keep you from breaking. But hell has clearly targeted Carol. It knows she's damn stronger than most and is doing whatever it takes to get to her.
He eyes the tear and its descent down her cheek. One tear. The others seem to be repressed. ]
But it could help fix you.
[ Those words linger as he takes a bite before continuing on. ]
The more you hold it in, the faster this place is gonna get to you. Like I said, maybe I'm not the guy you wanna talk about this shit to. But you also know I'm good for my word. I didn't tell Daryl or Rick what I saw in that haunted house. I won't tell 'em this either.
[ She looks up at him when he mentions the haunted house. They'd both seen more than they wanted to there, more than they'd have ever wanted anyone else to see. But he's right. Whatever he'd thought of her after seeing that, however disgusted and horrified he may have been at what she'd done, he'd kept it to himself. And she realizes with a little bit of surprise that she has every intention of doing the same. He hadn't asked her not to tell anyone about his wife, or the nightmare they'd gone through together. But she knows she never will.
They're not friends. But maybe she can tell him a little. Maybe it'll even help.
She hesitates a moment longer, and then reaches up, pulling back the side of her robe to reveal the spiral tattoo on her upper chest. ]
I got caught.
[ She closes her eyes, draws in a deep breath. Makes herself say it out loud. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
please let me know if this doesn't work!! (action)
Everyone seems to know all about the kidnapping, even those who hadn't been to the island at all. It's a level of attention and celebrity she doesn't want, especially now, and the first thing she does is find out what her new room assignment is so she can slip away as quickly as possible. She leans against the door as it shuts behind her, sagging in relief for about two seconds.
Then she spots the baseball bat leaning against the wall next to the couch.
Of course. ]
Shit.
you are perfect :*
Didn't think you'd be back for more so soon, darlin'. Would've held off on the shower if I knew--
[ He appears in the living room and makes eye contact with Carol who is actually the last person he expected to see. And...then it dawns on him that he's kind of hanging out in full view here. Negan takes a careful step behind the couch to allow for some form of modesty. ]
My bad. I thought you were someone else. Wait no, totally not an excuse. That wasn't okay. Definitely not cool. I'm sorry.
[ A pause as he looks toward her and takes her in. ]
You look like shit.
no subject
It's not until he's safely obscured behind the couch that she risks looking his way again, quirking an eyebrow at his blunt appraisal. The worst part is, she's sure he's right. ]
Thanks.
You look like you're...settling in.
no subject
I got some beef stew slow cooking in the oven. I'm pretty sure it was beef anyway, could be some weird demon cow for all I know. But should taste good all the same.
[ It was in the hotel kitchen, so it should be edible at the least. And he's got enough veggies and seasonings in it to make it palatable. ]
Get yourself cleaned up and into something cozy and I can fix us up some dinner. There's plenty. And I bet you're starving. Don't you worry, it ain't gonna be poison. I had to do a whole lot of the cooking back home when my wife was still alive.
no subject
But here they are. And honestly, nothing sounds better right now than curling up in some fresh clothes and eating a homecooked meal. She finds herself nodding in agreement, surprising herself. ]
Okay.
[ And then she folds her arms over her chest, looking deliberately up at the ceiling. No way she's walking past the couch while he's still standing there. ]
Maybe you could just find some pants first.
no subject
[ Negan flashes his trademark Negan grin, half charm and half smarm. He takes one of the pillows from the couch in front of him and uses it as a shield.
There's a lot of things he questions about Carol in lieu of the haunted house. He thought he had a good idea of what she was about, but maybe he doesn't? Maybe she's way more dangerous than even him. Or maybe they're both equally shitty. But he doesn't let it show. For as shitty as Negan could be, Carol had endured hell on that island. He can see it on her face, so he'll try to make it a little easier on her. Why? Because they're from the same world, and there's a flimsy alliance in that.
Negan wanders toward his chosen bedroom and throws on some clothes -- a loose fitting pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. In this damn hell heat, even he's not stupid enough to toss on his leather jacket. Negan lets Carol be so she can do what she needs to do as he goes and checks on the food, gives it a little stir and then takes the pot out of the oven -- dishing out two hearty portions and setting hers on the table while he settles onto the seat opposite of it.
If she wants company, he's here. If she wants to take the food and escape to her room, that's fine, too. He leaves that ball in her court. ]
no subject
She waits until he's safely disappeared behind one of the doors before opening a couple of the others, seeing what she's working with. The other bedrooms she checks are furnished but free of personal effects; it looks like it's just her and Negan here. Hell planning at its finest.
But there's hot, running water, too, and clean clothes - her own are a tattered mess, not even worth keeping. When she finally emerges, wrapped up in the softest pajamas she can find and lured out by the smell of hot stew, she's feeling slightly more human.
And she doesn't hesitate to sit down at the table across from Negan. He'd offered to share his food, he hasn't even been too much of a dick so far. She's not enough of an asshole to just take the bowl and retreat back to her room. They'll have to learn to live with each other eventually, anyway.
She picks up her spoon and takes a bite, not sure what to expect, but looks up at him in surprise as she swallows. ]
It's good.
no subject
Yeah, the rosemary really comes through. Compliments the thyme.
[ He takes a bite and sets his spoon to the side, taking the pitcher of water from the center of the table to pour himself a glass. ]
I assume you'll probably wanna lay down some ground rules, right? With us sharing this place and all. I promise all the ladies I bring back will be brought strictly to the bedroom and not out in the common area.
no subject
I never tried it with thyme.
[ But ground rules are really the last thing she wants to think about right now. She just nods in agreement, clearly distracted and looking down at her stew instead of up at Negan. ]
Mmhmm.
[ Her fingers and toes have grown back, with no outward sign they'd ever been missing, but they still ache a little. And she's never stopped being aware of the tattoo on her chest. It doesn't hurt anymore, but she can't help feeling like there's something wrong with it. Like she'd been marked with more than just ink.
She sets her spoon down to stretch her fingers, unconsciously raising her hand to rub at the tattoo under her shirt as she looks up at Negan. ]
What?
slides in here late. If you want to drop this, we can!
We can talk about it if you want.
[ An offer. He gives her the option to refuse, which he's sure she's going to take. But if she wants to go on and on about how much hell sucks, how much that island sucked, what happened that's got her so unfocused and out of it -- he gives her that option, too. He doesn't like seeing Carol like this. He doesn't like seeing her without her bite. ]
'Cause if you bottle this shit in...
[ If she bottles this shit in, maybe some other kid's gonna die or something. He doesn't know. She couldn't be around people....Carol had tried to explain. He shoves a bite in his mouth to give him time to think of a proper ending for that sentence. Chew, chew. Swallow. ]
If you bottle this shit in, it's gonna compound. You're gonna break. And I get it, maybe I'm not the guy you wanna talk to about it. There's people here you trust way more. But also, maybe I'm exactly the guy you wanna talk to about it for that same reason.
[ Less of a chance of him overreacting. Less of a chance of him coddling her unnecessarily. ]
never <3
Because that had always worked out so well, right?
She shakes her head, still gazing down at her food. He's right that he's just about the last person she'd think to seek out to talk to. About anything. But he also hadn't been there, a hallucination or deception cooked up just to torment her specifically. She hadn't had to watch him cutting pieces off of her while she screamed in pain and begged him to stop.
She can't say the same for Rick and Daryl.
A shudder goes through her at the memory, and she curls her foot protectively under her chair, tucking her right hand securely into her lap. Logically, she knows that she's safe. That it's over. That it had never really been Rick or Daryl or Ezekiel torturing her.
But there's a big difference between knowing that and believing it.
A single tear trickles down her cheek, and she makes a quiet, unhappy sound, raising her hand again to wipe it away. ]
Talking won't fix it.
[ It's a harsh, angry half-whisper, the first hint she's shown of her old self. ]
no subject
[ They're both old enough to know there's no magic fix to problems. It's all about how strong your will is in these apocalyptic days to keep you together, to keep you from breaking. But hell has clearly targeted Carol. It knows she's damn stronger than most and is doing whatever it takes to get to her.
He eyes the tear and its descent down her cheek. One tear. The others seem to be repressed. ]
But it could help fix you.
[ Those words linger as he takes a bite before continuing on. ]
The more you hold it in, the faster this place is gonna get to you. Like I said, maybe I'm not the guy you wanna talk about this shit to. But you also know I'm good for my word. I didn't tell Daryl or Rick what I saw in that haunted house. I won't tell 'em this either.
no subject
They're not friends. But maybe she can tell him a little. Maybe it'll even help.
She hesitates a moment longer, and then reaches up, pulling back the side of her robe to reveal the spiral tattoo on her upper chest. ]
I got caught.
[ She closes her eyes, draws in a deep breath. Makes herself say it out loud. ]
Tortured.