Poker Face

Chapter 23 - Eye for an Eye

A/N This is a little bit of a filler to move things along, but shit's about to go down.

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A few days passed and Aven finally got her proper introduction to the Sanctuary. In her first two weeks she'd either been sick, unconscious, delusional, imprisoned, or on the road. After arriving back from the Hilltop, Negan took her to the kitchen to introduce her to the full staff and throw together a few bowls of leftovers for lunch. After eating, he took her to the market to get new clothes.

"How many points is this stuff?" Aven asked worriedly.

"Oh, come on, doll," Negan drawled. "You're with me. You don't get charged." Aven eyed him skeptically, still suspicious of his leniency towards her.

"I can accept that," she began, not one to turn down free stuff, "but I still want to pull my weight around here. I don't want to live for free."

"You're a real fuckin' pain in the ass, you know that?" Negan chided. "Find some clothes and let's go. I have shit to do."

"You can go take care of whatever you need to take care of," Aven replied, running her eyes down a table piled with assortments of jeans. A woman behind the table stood looking down at her clasped hands, uncomfortable with how long Negan had been standing there and avoiding eye contact. Aven glanced at her before turning back to Negan. "I'll come find you when I'm done. I won't be long."

"If I'm not in my office I'll be out front," Negan said. "I need to get in contact with D, relay what Gregory told us."

"Do you want my notes?" Aven held out her notebook. He was about to make a retort about how he could remember all the information on his own, before realizing he couldn't and wordlessly snatching the book from her.

After Negan was gone, Aven turned back to the clothes, taking a few steps along the table as she reached out to check the waistbands for sizes. The woman still behind the table, wearing a plain gray frock, her blonde hair messy like she didn't own a comb, glanced up at Aven every now and again before turning her attention back to her hands.

"Why are you so scared of him?" Aven asked casually, not looking up from the jeans. The woman nervously clasped her hands tighter and shifted from foot to foot with a shrug, clearly distrusting of Aven's intentions. "I'm not going to say anything to him," Aven said, looking up and demanding the woman's eye contact. "I'm new. Negan has told me plenty about this place but I want to hear from someone who doesn't live in a penthouse suite."

"You've seen him," the woman answered, implying her fear was for obvious reasons.

"What's your name?"

"Stephanie," the woman replied.

"Stephanie," Aven repeated softly. "What haven't I seen here that everyone is so afraid of?" The woman looked at her with thinly-veiled horror.

"You've seen it, I thought," the woman mumbled.

"The iron?" The woman only shrugged with a slight nod. "Is that it? That's pretty bad but I'm assuming if you follow the rules-"

"He killed my husband," Stephanie said, flinching when she realized she'd just interrupted Negan's right hand woman. "No warning, no goodbye. He was just there one minute and then Negan...the bat..." The woman trailed off, holding back tears.

"What did your husband do?" Aven's voice remained soft and impartial.

"He- he didn't close the gate all the way. A few men slipped in and killed one of the guards," the woman spoke shakily.