With a contented sigh, Negan let his slender frame sink back into the water's embrace, enjoying its warmth as it loosened up his stiff muscles.
A sweet scent of minty soap filled his nostrils, and he breathed in deeply before closing his eyes and resting his head on the edge of the tub a few inches above the waterline.
It had been a long-ass day, filled with overseeing collections of offerings from the Hilltop and Alexandria, and taking care of a few internal disputes at the Sanctuary that had made his head hurt and forced him to break out the iron and use it on two of his own workers.
It had been a damned shame but that was just the way it was. Order came first then people's wellbeing. Everyone had to understand that and respect it and if that meant burning off the faces of a few people, well so be it.
But despite those few minor nuisances' life was good Negan had to admit.
King Ezekiel and that pencil-dicked coward, Gregory, stayed in line as they always had done and even Rick the Prick was starting to get with the program. When it came down to it, the rest of his problems was nothing more than a mosquito bite on an elephant's ass-cheek.
There was no need to ruin a perfectly good moment like this one, worrying about unimportant trifles within his own ranks.
Negan emptied his mind of his thoughts and allowed himself to relax.
For a long while the room was dominated by silence until a single drop fell from the tap, making a dull plop as it hit the surface of the water.
Opening his eyes and shifting his gaze to the figure in the far corner of the bathroom, he eyed the brunette, the widow; her head bowed, arms crossed and eyes fastened on the marble tiles in front of her.
She looked pissed, looked as though she wanted nothing more than to murder him, to drown him in that very tub he was currently soaking in.
She had been in the Sanctuary for little over three weeks at this point, but still resented him every bit as much as she had the night he bashed her what's-his-face husband's skull in.
Dealing with her was like trying to tame a wolverine or some shit, but Negan welcomed the challenge nevertheless. It was always fun to break the wild ones.
And she would break.
They all did sooner or later. One way or the other.
Negan smiled to himself.
"Maggie girl?"
He waited until her eyes met his, before giving her his widest grin, most beaming smile.
She stared back, nothing but pure hatred in her eyes. Apparently she was immune to his charm.
Negan sat up with a light grunt.
"Fetch me a drink, would ya, darlin'?"
He kept smiling as she stared at him, a green gaze that promised slow, painful death.
"If you don't mind, that is?"
"Of course. No problem" She said in that sexy ass southern drawl that made his balls tingle.
"Whiskey. 18 years. Single malt…and oh!" He snapped his fingers once "don't forget the ice."
She stared at him and he stared back, daring her to do something. Anything.
It was always so much fun to cross the line, especially with people like her.
She sent him one last glower before exiting the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Negan watched her go and chuckled as he let himself slide backwards till his head rested on the tub's edge once again. His eyes shifted to Lucille, leaning up against the wall next to the tub within arm's reach.
"My dirty, dirrrtyyygirl,"he whispered lovingly to the barbed wired clad bat.
With the smile still on his lips, Negan closed his eyes.
Glenn. That was her boyfriend's name. Or husband's. Or whatever he had been to her (not that it mattered). Negan remembered it now.
That sad-looking shit-bird whose head had been an oozing pulp of flesh, brains and blood once Lucille was done kissing him.
He hadn't planned on killing that one, but sometimes unexpected opportunities arose in the wake of people's bad decisions - in this case Rick and Daryl's - and that gave him an excuse to feed Lucille which was always a pleasure.
The brave-ass ginger had been totally on purpose though.
That ini mini miny moe bullshit had just been a little bit of psychological warfare, meant to scare the living shit out of Rick's group by letting them believe that Negan's decisions were coincidental.
But of course Lucille knew who she wanted in advance, and that Glenn had been a spur of the moment kind of thing. They had to be taught a lesson and he had been that lesson learned the hard way.
The door creaked open. Negan inhaled deeply and smiled.
"Ooh-wee! That sure was fast, Maggie-gal! I knew you couldn't stay away from this for long..."
His sentence was cut off by the ball-retracting feeling of something cold and hard, pressed against his Adam's apple.
What the shit?...
Opening his eyes suddenly, Negan stared up into the black Samurai chick's dark, narrowed ones.
Her katana was poised, ready to slice his throat wide open.
Carefully, well aware of the threat to his life, Negan opened his mouth to protest but was halted by her lifting her finger to her lips, shushing him.
"Be very still Negan," she hissed quietly and pressed the blade so hard against his stubbly skin, he heard the steel graze the hairs there.
"And do what I say, when I say."
She kept the sword pressed firmly against his neck while she took a step back towards the door.
"Get up slowly. And come with me you son of a bitch."