They spoke nonsense. All three of them did. Naught but gibberish to his ears as the Governor took the ultimate violence and burdened the women's shoulders with it. But now and then, that gibberish and nonsense would clear. They would become words - emanating from real, beautiful faces. Such words would make sense. They would get so loud. So overwhelming. They pushed the man to the point of insanity and rage. Such words defied his wants - his needs. They tarnished his name and reputation - the way of his lordship. They grew deafening to the point where, in the midst of calamity and injustice - when he found his tolerance slipping - he thought of investing in a pair of earplugs.
But the noise continued, even in the wake of Nora's miraculous escape. The Irish bitch had defiled his self-reassurance. She had overcome the greatest obstacle and laid waste to his ego. She crawled out of an intricately-woven plan, only to become the greatest, most painful thorn in his side. The Governor wished to be a virus, molding and wasting her beautiful, pale flesh - decaying her from the inside out. He wanted to strip Michonne of her dignity - strip it from her piece by bloody, gory piece until she was nothing but bone. He wanted to sink his teeth into Andrea's pretty little neck - the very same neck that stuck out for the reputable ladies of her crew when she didn't confess anything he wished for.
They had escaped. What's worse, when the Governor felt his power returning with Merle Dixon's brother, it was really them who had ruined his manhood yet again. Specifically Lenora, who a few of his men had seen fleeing alongside Merle, his righthand man. Woodbury was in a rage, finding the Governor's tactics in finding these people to be useless and poorly-conducted. They doubted his reign - they doubted his power.
He'd show them power.
The voices and gibberish cleared in his mind, urging him to push forth. He could feel the rage piquing. Those piercing, slate hues stared intently upon the surface of his desk as his fingers tapped delicately upon the mahogany surface - almost innocently, whilst a theme park of red delights played merrily in his twisted mind.
"Sir!" The voice made him start, ripping the Governor's attention from his fantasies to the prospect of good news. "We've found them." Such a symphony of a sentence. The Governor tapped his fingers in a rougher fashion but once against the surface before he stood, awaiting further news. For two weeks, he had boggled his mind as to where the three bitches had fled to. His people were getting anxious, knowing they could be invaded by the group in the prison, along with three very skilled fighters seeking revenge. His patience with their hiding places was wearing incredibly thin. So now, the aspect - even the slightest chance - that those women, along with the prison group, could be brought to justice… it made butterflies form in his stomach.
"Out with it." The Governor demanded, his voice harsh. Cruelty and delight were hand-in-hand in his gaze. "Where are they?"
"With the prison group, sir. The northeast party found them. Turns out you were right the whole time." So they were, in a sense, one threat. The Governor had ordered his men to conduct separate search parties for the past couple of weeks. The main starting point being Location A: the store where Michonne and Merle's brother were found. The Governor's lips thinned, hating the thought of being outsmarted by such simple folk.
"You know what to do." He replied, waving off the soldier with a nod. "I'll be down in ten minutes. Collect the troops. We attack tomorrow."