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

XIII • The Interview

"I hope you all got some good fuckin' sleep because the sun is shinin' and today is gonna be a BIG day!" Negan's presence was overwhelming

Even though Daphne couldn't see him, a thrill danced up every vertebrae.

"Now I know I've been scarce this last week or so," he continued, deep voice sounding apologetic.

She couldn't help but wonder if he'd been an actor in his past life.

His boots hit cement, coming ever closer. "But don't worry! I've been keeping tabs on ALL of my friends here in the Sanctuary, you can bet your asses on that." He paused, in speech and step, and the silence was deafening. "What's your fuckin' name, friends?" he bellowed, and Daphne expected a chorus of the word 'savior'.

"NEGAN!" the crowd screamed, excitement rippling through the room like lightning.

Daphne started breathing again—not even having realized she hadn't been—in barely audible short gasps.

"Music to my fuckin' ears." There was a thick whoosh of air as he spoke, as if he'd swung something. Then the pacing continued, and he spoke in a conversational tone as if carrying on a story he'd been telling. "Damn near two weeks ago, Simon brought me a really nice fuckin' present," Negan said, "though I didn't know at the time how nice it really was. Shit, I still don't know how nice it is. I feel like a kid on Christmas fuckin' morning."

Daphne's lungs seized again. He was so close now, and he was talking about her. She knew it, he had to be. The buildup was damn near killing her. Did he know that? He spoke of his anticipation, but did he know that it was just as intense for her?

"I started hearing things, as I do so very often hear things." Negan's boots slowed, sliding across the cement like a snake. "This new recruit excited to join my New World Order waltzes in here, all charismatic and shit. Starts working for free, volunteering under the saltiest cunt Brit I know."

Nicola's grunt from the back caused a smattering of soft chuckles, Negan's included.

Daphne couldn't help but smile. The slight relief allowed her to open her eyes, though her head was still down.

"Then my wives receive some gifts that are just a delicious fuckin' treat. I'm not an easy man to surprise, but god damn was I fuckin' surprised. The gift that just... keeps... giving." Negan's pacing slowed to a stop with his words.

Daphne's blood pounded in her ears at the sight of black combat boots at the top of her periphery.

"Then this recruit starts making friends, with my BEST fuckin' friends, and I'm wondering: who the hell is this cocksucker?" Another whoosh, and a blast of air hit the back of Daphne's neck. "Even charmed my Arat. My fuckin' ice queen. But I wanted to be patient. Didn't want to ruin the surprise! Shit, it's been hard. So fuckin' hard I couldn't wait another two days. Can't wait to see what Santa Simon brought me." One of the boots slid slightly as Negan shifted his weight. "On your feet," he commanded, and the entire congregation, Daphne included, stood.

She kept her eyes focused on his boots, blonde waves obscuring most of her vision.

"Look me in the fucking eye." Negan's authority thrummed through her, and her head moved as if in slow motion.

Fitted grey jeans housed strong legs. A brown belt slung around well built hips, peeking out from beneath the hem of a simple white shirt that didn't quite hide an athletic midsection. An almost pristine looking black leather jacket embraced his upper body, adorned with zippers and straps. A blood red scarf completed the look, the colour of passion splayed across his neck.