OPEN RP LOG

[112ounces]

Here is where you go nuts with Carl "Future Serial Killer" Grimes, whether it is just a set in game-verse or whichever.

Comments

[peepeepants]

[A Negan needs no sympathy X( But if he was adjusting well, he might not have found Carl's place and let himself in. Here he is, though, staring at a group of folks who are definitely not the bitey type. A few of them could probably use a kiss from Lucille, but. That's just how humanity operates.

He turns when the plate hits the table.

He blinks. He leans forward.

They have, all of them, at one point in time, had to stomach what they never would have imagined before the world went to shit. Packaged goods way past expiration date. Veggies and fruits shoved into mouths with no thoughts given to washing them. Even raw eggs sucked straight out of their shells. And worse, always, always there was someone who'd had it worse. Or who'd gone after worse and grew a taste for human flesh.

Negan peers at the horrible excuse for breakfast a few more moments.

He leans Lucille against the chair again, removes his usual one glove, and starts to separate what's properly done of the bacon from the rawer bit.]

That daddy of yours taught you to cook this way, kid?

[Not poorly. Poorly on purpose. There's a message here, and it's not that Carl's just too fucking stupid to cook some bacon and eggs straight through. It's that little spark of fight Rick held onto even with his face spattered with friend residue. That spark willing to shoot at Saviors and talk after. Negan pops the extra crispy section in his mouth and looks up at Carl, expecting an answer and giving away absolutely no signs of distaste about this Breakfast of Assholes.]

[112ounces]

Oh no. I had to learn how to use the oven here. [ Which is true - Carl did learn to cook mostly from here, though Carol and Michonne and Dad and others taught him a little of their knowledge back home. He learned enough how to cook well enough to feed himself, and knows how poorly to piss someone off. ] I usually spit in my meals while cooking them.

[ But he didn't. Although that's a lie, Negan doesn't need to know that. ]

[peepeepants]

[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.]

[112ounces]

[ He'll fucking try and will definitely kill Negan's friends in order to do it. ]

What you see is what you get.

[ Carl's not even going to do an half-assed excuse on his cooking. Not when it is so obvious. ]