I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

One rainy morning

For the two days that followed the radio call, Negan did nothing but pace about the place, snapping at everyone but Mia, for even breathing in his direction.

His most loyal lieutenants were supposed to have returned from their run yesterday, but it seemed as though heavy rain had hindered their progress out there, and they would be coming home a day late. Maybe even two at this rate.

But Negan, on this occasion, for once wasn't interested in what they had gone to scavenge.

Fuck, even if it was the goddamn Queen of England's crown jewels, he would be hard pressed to give a shit.

No, all the dark-haired Saviour was waiting for, was Arat's return to the Sanctuary, and for him to finally get the opportunity to confront her about Blake's location.

All Negan knew now was that he needed to see her. He needed her hear her voice again.

It was like a hunger, a yearning for the blonde woman who had come into his life like hurricane and changed it for the better.

And Negan knew he would not be able to sate that hunger until his own dark eyes landed on her again.

And so, in a foul mood, this morning Negan was in the dining hall with Mia, currently laying into Simon for no other reason other than the fact that the mustachioed man had allowed two of his men to get killed out there yesterday, on what should have been an easy routine visit to the Hilltop.

"I told you, Boss. We bust a tire and both of them got bit whilst fixin' it, I barely got out of there alive myself," Simon said with a fixed smile etched onto his features as he stood before Negan now, hands on hips, sweat beading on his dome-like brow.

Things had indeed been frosty between Negan and his right-hand man ever since his confrontation with Blake and that damn gal from Alexandria.

Simon had always seemed loyal to Negan. But did Negan trust him?

The leader of the Saviours narrowed his eyes as he stared back at the mustachioed man, arching his back a little as he pointed Lucille into Simon's chest.

"See, shit like that, seems to have been happenin' a lot lately, Si," Negan growled in a low voice. "Loyal fuckin' men gettin' their ass handed to them by those dead pricks. I mean, they survived this fuckin' long, so why get taken out so easily now?"

"Maybe we're all getting a bit soft," Simon mused with a smirk across his features. "I mean since your lady friend came along, maybe this place isn't as tough as it used to be. People are getting used to the good life. Maybe they're getting lazy."

Negan's eyes blackened a little at this.

"An' what the fuck are you suggestin' we do differently," uttered Negan darkly.

But Simon merely shrugged.

"Me?" he mused, his voice full of a faux-innocence that raised Negan's hackles almost instantly.. "I wasn't suggesting we do anything at all, Boss."

The dark-haired Saviour stared at Simon for a lengthy moment.

Nope, he didn't trust this asshole at fucking all.

And so with that, Negan gave a long sniff, leaning back against his long legs and grimacing. "You smell that, Simon. Cause the more I smell it, the more I think that what you're sayin' to me is utter fuckin' horse-shit."

"Boss..." Simon said with a bemused frown. "Have I really given you any reason not to trust me? I've done what you asked time and time again and not once have I stepped out of line."

But Negan scowled.

No, Simon hadn't done anything implicitly wrong and yet Negan still had this nagging feeling, this doubt about his right-hand man, that kept building, as the days went on.