Negan doesn't like when his plans don't work out like he wants. He doesn't like when the pieces don't all lock into place. He acknowledges his deep seated need for control is excessive. Sometimes the enormity of his own pride makes him wish he could falter with dignity.

The problem with being a leader like Negan is that a person can grow to be seduced by their station. Negan doesn't like it when people don't need him. He wants to see people crave him. He likes to hear them beg. He outright hungers for the pride he gains from the fear in their eyes. He loves to see them on their knees, praying to him like a god.

It's why he's so particularly bothered that after nearly four months occupying the same space, he hasn't gained an inch with that spectacular older sister. He has to admit that he was way past preoccupied with her. He likes to watch the way she worked, unperturbed by the people around her. She doesn't process a thing unless it has to do with her sister or Lozano.

After her last public punishment, Negan decided to tell his men to finally back off. It wasn't like it was a direct order, more just… casual insinuations to bug the two. Those sisters were a patient set, didn't react until his men crossed the lines. The first one accosted the older sister directly and got the shit kicked out of him for it. He remained alive since he'd only got to her lower back. Negan watched his wrist snap like a twig when she tossed him against the wall and kicked his hand around the corner. The men thought they got wise and went after the younger one, thinking she was easier prey. That just made it so much worse on them. The older sister didn't hold back once her little sibling was in the crosshairs.

He let the sisters simmer with their fear and pain for a while. He'd pushed a little here and there, but he kept himself and his men distant. Hanging around, talking to the right folks, he carefully observed the older sister's recovery from afar. He'd especially enjoyed watching their turmoil unfold after they were told about the massive debt they owed. The older sister almost immediately went back to work, finally able to get out of bed.

Punishment was Negan's favorite bag. He hadn't gotten to see his handy work yet, but he's looking forward to it with an intoxicating anticipation. He'd asked Doctor Carson about the scarring, but the doc said he hadn't done the work. Negan assumed the younger sister must have done it. He certainly wouldn't gain any points with her if that was the case. He knows he'll get the perfect show of it eventually, if everything works out like he wants it to.

Granted, he hadn't actually anticipated her murdering so many of his men, or him carving the first letter of his name into her stomach. She'd riled something deep inside of him that made bashing people's skulls in with a barbed wire bat look merciful. He wanted that dire surge for survival that kept her pushing on, relentlessly killing threats to her and hers. He wanted to siphon off all that sick rage, consume her darkness with his own. She was a force of nature and boy, did he ever want that lightning in a bottle. He wants to possess her.

Thus he was in his current situation, having his pants feeling too tight in a bland grey cafeteria with shinning metal tables. She healed relatively fast, but her movement is stiff and limited. As she bends over to clean, her face twitches with each swipe of the wet cloth. She wears an oversized shirt, tucked into the front of her pants, slung almost excessively low. As she leans further with a grimace, he can see the wide expanse of her lower back, soft, rounding, and dimpled at the base of the spine.

Negan licks his lips unabashedly at the sight. As if caught in a tractor beam, he saunters up behind her, not being quiet with the fall of his boots. With the way she stiffens, he's sure she knows it's him. His hair stands on end at that, goosebumps tickling his flesh in excitement. She's learned to differentiate between different people's gaits and he finds that overwhelmingly fascinating. He slides in behind her and she shoots up instantly, before his hands could grasp her waist.

Lupe hisses as the healing skin of her stomach pulls. She didn't think Negan would be so bold to position himself in such an insulting and violent way. Especially after all she'd done. Though she shouldn't have been surprised. She tries to sidestep him, but he kicks up a foot onto the bench and blocks her. Lupe's back faces him and she manages to keep in her curse. She shuffles quickly in the other direction, halted by a sharp prick on her arm. She immediately jumps back from the far too familiar sensation. Lucille stretches out from his grasp, the barest tip of the barrel resting along the table top's edge, caging her in. She hadn't stopped having nightmares about that bat and its wielder.

Too late, Lupe realizes she'd backed right up into Negan. She's pressed against his warmth like a seal sunning on the rocks. Albeit, she has the temperament of one hiding from an orca. With her body plastered against his, he perches an elbow on his knee, his body curling closer, arm swinging casually around her side. He drags the bat across the metal table top, closing in on her. She refuses to start shaking, even when his fingers absently play with the loose fabric at the front of her shirt.

"You're looking mighty fine Dita," Negan growls into her ear. His body shifts behind hers, accommodating to the press of her. "Feeling mighty fine too. So fucking soft and warm. Somethin' I could just sink into for days."

The last word murmurs into her skin and the burn of him makes her want to retch. Lupe whirls away, shoving at his knee harshly and shuffling away. When his support is lost, he falters hard. The bat rattles against the bench and his boot stomps down on the floor from the jagged momentum. She did not look back. She did not stumble. She merely grips the fabric at her stomach, grits her teeth, and refuses to stop moving. She realizes she isn't moving very fast out of the clearing cafeteria, as others were fleeing much quicker. Her eyes dart around at all the down-turned faces abandoning her to the lions. Tight hands grip her hips and tug. She did not pass go. She did not collect two hundred points. She stumbled this time, right back into his chest.

"I've been meaning to speak to you darlin'," Negan croons in her ear. "Why don't we go back up to mine and have a little chat?" His hand hovers over her stomach, dangerously close to her healing scars.

Despite the pain, Lupe yanks herself out of his grasp. She turns, with tears in her eyes and snarls at him, "I can barely climb the two flights up to my own room, thanks the fuck to you! So I'll have to decline attempting to make it up to your goddamn ivory tower." She turns and tries to storm away, but his hand is on her again. His fingers wrap around her wrist and it isn't playful and invading. This touch is meant to make her stop. It is iron clad.

Lupe spits out muttered curses between her teeth. Her eyes shut tight and she tries to push the pain and irritation away. She has to just turn it all off. If she has to kiss his ass to make sure he keeps his distance, she'll do it. She'll play his games if it means he'll stay away from her sister. She allows Negan to turn her and pull her back. She doesn't squeeze up close to him, even though he tries to get her to do so. She has to press a flat hand against his stomach, shaking her head and biting back a sob. He stops and she wishes she felt relief.

Negan's hand curves around her back, wrapping her up in himself. He dedicates some effort to keeping a bit of distance from her healing wounds. A sly smile spreads across his lips. "We can talk right here then." His body curls around her short frame, encompassing her in whatever shadow follows him around.

It smothers her completely. "What can I do for you Negan?" she asks with what could be called civility.

Negan arcs an eyebrow along with a sly grin. "Well, I sure am fucking pleased as pie you asked." He licks his lips and notices she followed the movement. There is no reaction though. Not a drop of reciprocated lust, but neither disgust. That seems to be progress. "You and I have something hanging between us, causing," he bites his lower lip, taking her in, standing there and actually fighting to not be defiant, "tension."

"The debt?" she specifies, doing her best to avoid the excessively drawn out cat and mouse game.

Nodding, he pops her on the nose with his finger. "You are a very smart cookie. I still like that about you." He turns and slowly guides her over to a metal table. He leans against the head of it, perching up one of his heels on the bench, and pulls her to the inside of his knee. She lets him, flows with his movements like water. "Now, I know we have had our moments of unpleasantness, but this debt here has to be settled."

"I'm back to work already," her jaw rolls as she tries to restrain her tone.

The scars he put there on her chin the first time they met are still the most prominent, shining like diamonds in the sunlight. He vividly remembered that day, positioning her, sopping up her fear. Rather than let him enjoy it, she ripped her face away from his beloved Lucille. Lucille had a taste for her blood now. He had a mind to let her have every single drop.

"I'll figure things out. If you let me outside of the gates, I could handle some shit myself without needing points," she bites back the annoyance seeping into her tone. Then fails to. "I am still recovering from being carved up like a Christmas ham. If I need remind you, due to increasing age affecting your memory? And I didn't even use your goddamn doctor, so what the hell is this debt really about?"

Negan smiles. "The first aid kits aren't exactly complementary."

She gapes at him, lower lip trembling in disbelief. "That's a contrived, bull shit charge and you know it."

"I make the charges. You saying I'm full of shit?" His smile is sharp, but his tone is exaggerated and teasing.

She rolls her eyes, her tone resigned, "Just tell me what the fuck you want Negan. I'm exhausted."

"Well, I do have an extra room upstairs I think you'd find mighty comfy for your recovery." His smile is pure charm.

Lupe stares at him in blatant disappointment. "Are we really still here?" Her tone droops like her breath doesn't want to bother with the words, "You're still trying to force me to fu—,"

He snaps his fingers in her face and she wisely shuts her mouth. "I don't force anyone to do anything. It's a binding agreement, just like any marriage." His tone goes harsher, "Now you have racked up a sizable debt due to medical supplies and absences from work. That can easily be wiped away by agreeing to be my wife. You'll also receive free care until you've healed properly." He adjusts his jacket, watching her out of the corner of his haughty frown. "It'd also keep your sister from getting punished."

"Why in the fuck would she get punished?" Lupe snarls and glares, shaking with rage.

Negan can't stop the smile that creeps onto his face. "I specifically recall saying that no one should help you."

Lupe's hands grasp his lapels as she lunges. "You son of a —!" she yelps in garbled, willowy way and suddenly doubles over.

Negan leans forward and catches her, tugs her closer by the hips. Her head falls against his shoulder, her hands cling to his lapels as she breathes deeply through the horrific sensations. Negan might be a little sick, reveling that he was the one to make her feel that way, but he knows it. He brushes his nose against her hair. "What was that pet?"

"You assumed she did it. You had to," Lupe spits between tense breaths. "I know she didn't tell you she did. You'd see right through it. She's a crummy liar and she can't stitch worth a damn. You're full of shit."

Negan guffaws, his fingertips digging into the skin at her hips. "Darlin' you're starting to get me real fucking excited. I like the way you dirty-talk." His lips brush the shell of her ear, his tone cold and serious, "Why the fuck should I believe you?"

Lupe sucks in air through grit teeth to form the words. "She didn't help me because she was entirely fucking unconscious. You knocked her out." She pushes herself off of his shoulder by using her hold on his jacket. Glaring, she rasps through her agony, "So fuck your infirmary, fuck your debt," she rips her hands away from him, chin quivering as she snarls, "and fuck you!"

Negan chuckles darkly at the sight of her windswept rage. "Alright, say I believe you then. All this debt is just yours to carry." She isn't looking at him, she's gazing off into nothing. He reaches up a hand and instead of letting him touch her, her eyes instantly meet his. He smiles. "You know exactly how you can wipe it away."

"Yeah, I'm doing it. Indentured servitude. Like the white god intended," she snaps with a reproachful glare.

Negan chuckles and leans his chin in his palm. "Maybe so." His smile seems too carefree, properly charmed by her. "You know, you haven't so much as touched any of my men after the last incident. I thought I'd have to threaten to punish your sister if another Savior went down." He grins. "I'm almost convinced this is what might be considered good behavior for you."

"Get fucked," she growls.

"I'm tryin'." He winks. She pulls away, disgusted, but he stops her again by her hips, hooking his thumbs in her bet loops. She wants to step back, but he leans in and yanks her closer. "Now, now, don't get coy. If you're not going to agree to be my wife, then perhaps you'd be interested in a little business venture I've been contemplating."

She sighs, trying to prepare herself through shuddering breaths. "Yes?"

He grins wide at her restraint. "I've been thinking that you're right about my men not knowing how to control themselves. I'm thinking it might be safer if we decided to bring back the worlds oldest and greatest profession." He nods to her, sounding triumphant. She frowns at him hard. "It could be filled with all sorts of carnal delights denied to my men since even before they lived in this hell. It could satiate these urges, keep people safe."

"So you want to create sex worker positions?" Lupe's eyes narrow dangerously, her tone not even within an inch of playing.

Negan shrugs. "Plenty of people out there, young entrepreneurs, who are eager to earn something for themselves." He eyes Lupe in a very specific way, a threat gleaming in his deep and pitiless stare. "Some might even jump at the chance to earn extra points or safety for their vulnerable families."

Lupe's jaw immediately hardens. "If you want to bluster and bull shit your way through the end of the world, fine. But if you want to interact with me, I'm taking it at face value. Every time you open your mouth, you show me exactly who you are. If you want my fucking loyalty Negan, earn it," she snaps. She isn't going to chomp on his bait, not in the way he wants. "To start, will these 'young entrepreneurs' be fairly compensated with healthcare along with their points? Similar to what your wives get, as a comparison between jobs?" she asks pointedly.

Negan goes to open his mouth, but she bites her words out faster.

"Will they be guaranteed protection from your men's abuse — no matter what 'carnal delights' they may have?" Her voice goes hard and her eyes alight with a noxious and scathing fury. This is not something she is remotely in the realm of fucking around about. "Will everything be consensual? You know that brains don't stop developing well into a person's twenties? So still developing people and children can't consent in these situations. Will you personally make sure it's all above board? Will they be safe, Negan? Do you even actually care?" Her voice rises to an unhealthy level and shakes with rage, "Or will they just be fuck dumpsters for the men you can't control? The ones who should be put down! Just like their rabid master!"

Negan's off the table like a shot. She's quick to respond, despite the pang in her stomach that makes her twitch to the right. Negan presses in on her, hovering dangerously as she backs away.

His statement is pitiless. "The laws you thought protected you don't apply any longer. I am the law."

"I was never under the illusion that laws protected me, Judge Dredd." She looks him square in the face, a distorted exhaustion and sorrow lacing her features. "The thing is, if laws and rules were all that ever kept you from raping children and bashing people's faces in with bats, then it was never about the laws."

Tears well in her eyes. Her voice shakes as she bites out, "You are weak and broken. So is this entire place, and any future with you in it." Her face pinches in pain as she shakes her head, looking away like he just somehow hurt her worse than carving his entire name into her body.

"When you come back with a better proposal for sex workers, I might consider it." She clicks her tongue at him reproachfully. "You're just a selfish bully Negan. And like all your forefathers that came before you in their rape victims, you're just as fucking pathetic too." She turns away from him and hobbles away.

Indignant rage burns Negan straight through his veins. His eyes follow after her like he might take a bite out of her. Her words were scathing and disappointed, they burned a distorted anger in him and birthed something bleak. He growls deeply in his chest, trying to tear that sensation out of its place. He stalks after her. He knows she hears his footfalls, fears them, but she doesn't turn around.

He wants to rile her into action. Force her into making a choice. It would only get worse and worse for her if she kept defying him. He grits his teeth, Lucille spinning in his hand. Raising the bat, he cracks her across the back of her skull with the knob end and she immediately crumples to the ground. He stands over her prone form, his lungs heaving for air, and that beast inside of him purrs back into its place.

A group of his men stand in a nearby doorway, murmuring excitedly between themselves. He looks over his shoulder at the group and barks, "Get her in the cells, now!"

The men all jump into action and carry her down into the dungeon with Negan on their heels. Once she's on the floor, he slams the door and locks it. He dismisses his men and storms out of The Sanctuary in a huff.