[ After everything that went down at the hospital, Negan essentially slept for a couple of days. Even now, he could use more sleep. But instead, he decides to be a functional member of this little community and do what he used to -- get himself a cup of coffee to burn off the grogginess. He stands in line at the counter, a barbed wire baseball bat resting against his shoulder. Seems like Lucille is out on this little date with him. ]
Pumpkin Spice? Shit, that takes me back. [ He says to no one in particular. Hell, maybe he's even talking to his bat. ] All them college cuties hanging out at the coffee shop, sipping their lattes as I drove past. I'm sure it's gonna suck in this place, but hell. Let's do it for nostalgia's sake.
[ He grins as he reaches the counter and orders before gesturing toward the person nearby -- whether they want it or not. ]
Make it double.
B; Hotel Bar (cw: alcohol use)
[ They're not allowed out of the hotel, which would be a damn shame if they didn't have this bar right here. But as it is, Negan has been drinking heavily because eventually with enough drinking, he can forget about his nightmares -- he can forget about his undead wife as she shambled after him in the hospital halls, he can forget about the creepy fucking nurses and the padded rooms, he can forget all those terrifying noises he heard on the verge of sleep every night.
Tossing back his seventh shot of whiskey, as the call rings out from the karaoke stage for participants, he's definitely drunk enough to get up there and take the microphone with a loud screech. ]
This one goes out to that sexy lady sitting in the third stool on the left side of the bar. Hi. I'm Negan. Hit me up after this.
[ He flashes his smarmy grin to said lady -- human or demon or something else. But he flops onto a provided stool and begins to sing a number of tunes (although "sing" is rather subjective as it's more like talk singing in his gravelly southern drawl.) It ranges from the more upbeat Devil Went Down to Georgia to a more heartfelt and morose You Are So Beautiful (cw: chemotherapy/cancer). While he doesn't do it the justice Joe Cocker does, there's a definite pain in his eyes -- his voice tightening and even becoming choked up over a few lyrics.
So much for drinking to forget...
Any boos or jeers go ignored. Negan stays on stage until someone comes up there to physically pry the damn microphone from his hands. And even then, he might fight for it. Be warned. ]
Negan | The Walking Dead | OTA
[ After everything that went down at the hospital, Negan essentially slept for a couple of days. Even now, he could use more sleep. But instead, he decides to be a functional member of this little community and do what he used to -- get himself a cup of coffee to burn off the grogginess. He stands in line at the counter, a barbed wire baseball bat resting against his shoulder. Seems like Lucille is out on this little date with him. ]
Pumpkin Spice? Shit, that takes me back. [ He says to no one in particular. Hell, maybe he's even talking to his bat. ] All them college cuties hanging out at the coffee shop, sipping their lattes as I drove past. I'm sure it's gonna suck in this place, but hell. Let's do it for nostalgia's sake.
[ He grins as he reaches the counter and orders before gesturing toward the person nearby -- whether they want it or not. ]
Make it double.
B; Hotel Bar (cw: alcohol use)
[ They're not allowed out of the hotel, which would be a damn shame if they didn't have this bar right here. But as it is, Negan has been drinking heavily because eventually with enough drinking, he can forget about his nightmares -- he can forget about his undead wife as she shambled after him in the hospital halls, he can forget about the creepy fucking nurses and the padded rooms, he can forget all those terrifying noises he heard on the verge of sleep every night.
Tossing back his seventh shot of whiskey, as the call rings out from the karaoke stage for participants, he's definitely drunk enough to get up there and take the microphone with a loud screech. ]
This one goes out to that sexy lady sitting in the third stool on the left side of the bar. Hi. I'm Negan. Hit me up after this.
[ He flashes his smarmy grin to said lady -- human or demon or something else. But he flops onto a provided stool and begins to sing a number of tunes (although "sing" is rather subjective as it's more like talk singing in his gravelly southern drawl.) It ranges from the more upbeat Devil Went Down to Georgia to a more heartfelt and morose You Are So Beautiful (cw: chemotherapy/cancer). While he doesn't do it the justice Joe Cocker does, there's a definite pain in his eyes -- his voice tightening and even becoming choked up over a few lyrics.
So much for drinking to forget...
Any boos or jeers go ignored. Negan stays on stage until someone comes up there to physically pry the damn microphone from his hands. And even then, he might fight for it. Be warned. ]
C; Wildcard
[ Anything goes! ]