No Sanctuary For Old Men [18+] |Negan| ✔️ Complete

V • Pretty Satin Things

The seamstress, whose name turned out to be Nicola, was impressed with the neatly folded stack of pants and shirts that Daphne had repaired in less than an hour.

"You weren't kidding." The redhead examined the perfectly neat little stitches that the recruit had hand sewn. She'd easily fixed all of the tears and missing buttons on the garments, and Nicola made noises of satisfaction as she sorted through them. "Alright, clean up your workspace and I'll go get you your fags."

"Am I hired, then?" Daphne asked.

"I said I'd think about it," Nicola huffed and strode away.

The blonde chuckled to herself, feeling like she'd won. She already knew she'd be staying here, she'd make sure of it. She needed to make sure she was useful, and showing enough people that was imperative. She needed to impress Negan, the trick was to figure out how without having met the man himself.

So she figured key people close to him would be her ticket in. She wasn't sure how far up the food chain Nicola was, but with her seemingly being the only seamstress, Daphne figured she was likely well-known.

After cleaning up the bits of thread and excess fabric from her workspace, she turned to examine the garment Nicola had been building. It was a slinky black dress, something very different than the functional garb around her. Who could this possibly be for?

"Nice fabric is hard to come by," Nicola said as she tossed a pack of cigarettes on the table. "Of course the slags upstairs get first dibs. Negan likes his wives wrapped up like Christmas presents."

"Wives?"

"Jesus, you really are new." The seamstress rolled her eyes. "Big boss has five wives, and they are spoiled rotten. But I guess shagging King Savior should have perks."

"Is he gross or something?"

"Fuck no, he's fit." Nicola shook her head. "But it's unlikely that they're up there for any reason other than not having to work with the rest of us."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, a thought niggling in the back of her brain. "So he likes you to make sexy outfits for his ladies, then?"

"He is a man, after all." The redhead laughed, and held up the unfinished dress. There were ample bits of black silk leftover.

"Mind if I work these into something useable?" The recruit wiggled her fingers over the bits as she formulated a rough pattern in her head. "Off the clock, of course."

"You don't have a clock yet," Nicola swept the material at her. "Go for it, if you're gagging for it that badly."

Daphne scooped up the fabric and laid it out next to the overlock machine, smiling at having found a way to impress the Big Boss without even needing to meet him.