[The change on Negan's face isn't shock or disgust—he has like nine wives or something, a little spit is nothing—but amusement. He laughs like he does at his own stupid jokes. And then a bit more than that, bringing his hand down loudly on the table edge twice like Carl is just That Funny. He even wipes at an eye. What a joker, that Carl Grimes.]

Shit! Where d'you come from? Goddamn. [He won't be trying the veal, no worries there.] Spit's the least of your worries. This egg ain't done all the way.

[His hand goes back to Lucille, who helps him stand.]

But we've established you cook differently for yourself than you do for anybody else, haven't we.

[He gets the insult. Of course he does. And yet there's something to be said for even (not actually) spitty, shitty hospitality. When he provides a service, he expects a great deal in return. This is similar, so Negan finishes that sad sad bacon with eyebrows raised in Carl's direction. Can't spit on this, buddy.]