Man with the Bat || a Negan novel

Chapter 35: Never Too Old for a Temper Tantrum

"What the hell happened in there?" I angerly demanded an answer, slamming Negan's bedroom door behind the both of us.

"Not now Mia," Negan groans, running an aggravated hand through his dark locks.

"Yes now," I snap back, crossing my arms in a fit of rage, "what happened to this being just a quiet sit down?"

He shrugs as he picks up the bottle of brandy and pouring it into a crystal glass, "Shit happens."

I let out a disgruntled sigh, "I'm serious Negan, things weren't supposed to go down like that. You told me if I'd come back then all this war crap would be over," I choose to remind him of this agreement.

He chuckles to himself as he raises the glass to his lips, "Mia, I don't think the small misunderstanding that went down in there would exactly clarify as war." He brushes my accusation off as he hovers to the window, watching down where Rick and Michonne were getting ready to leave.

"A falling domino, Negan," I shake my head, "One wrong move and everything could go to hell."

"Hell for them," he points down to their van starting up, "Not me."

"You don't know that," I roll my eyes, "Yeah, you're the big bad wolf who puts on a strong front and tries to blow the houses down, but in the end of the story who wins?" I pause, letting him contemplate on my metaphor, "I'll give you a hint, it's not you."

His eyebrows lower in confusion, "I don't entirely get your point."

I sigh, "Don't go starting trouble when you don't entirely know what you're up against. I know Rick, he's thrown a lot at you and your guys but you haven't seen it all."

Negan smirks in amusement, "Damn! Wish I wouldn't have made a deal with you because I would love to see him bring his all."

I roll my eyes as I studiously watch him part his lips, in-taking a bit more of the drink in his vein covered hand, he didn't seem to be the littlest bit phased from the occurrences just moments ago. That always surprised me about him, how every time something dangerous or exhilarating occurred, Negan seemed to be able to just brush it off every time.

As if it always meant nothing.

"What did Rick say about me?" I questioned, recalling Negan's words to Rick as we opened the door.

"You just can't let her go can ya?"

He shrugs, "Not important."

I scoffed.

"Yes it damn well is," I roll my eyes, "It involves me doesn't it?"

"Maybe so, but we're not gonna get into it," Negan shrugs, downing the rest of his drink and setting his empty glass on the dresser.

"Negan," I lower my tone.

"Mia," he mocks me.

I stare at him for a few more seconds, his gaze unbothered and rather annoyed.

"Fine, I'll see you later," I spin on my heel, turning away from me.

"Oh bloody -" Negan grumbles, "Don't throw a fit on me Mia."

I ignored him, continuing out the door, pretending not to hear him shouting for me to come back. 

"Mia fucking Calloway, get your ass back here!"

Not today honey.

I kept walking as fast as my short legs could carry me during my temper tantrum, but I knew that Negan wasn't following after. He knew me by now, he knew I'd stay in a bad mood until he told me. And until he was ready I wasn't going to hang around him.