ELEANOR . NEGAN

009.

"What's your name?"

Eleanor didn't particularly care, especially when the two Saviours in front of her practically led her way through the questioning glares and quieted whispers.

It's been about a week and a half since Negan declared she needed a job yet she still hasn't found one for her. In all honesty, Elle didn't care what job she gets in the end, she just wanted to make a fuss for Negan's sake. Within that week and so, all Negan has done was amplified his comment that he classed as flirting whereas Eleanor has been trying to amplify her self-deprivation and self-control.

"None of your business."

Elle rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest while her eyes focused on the men in front of her. "Kinda is, mate. I mean, I'm getting a job. Doesn't that make me part of your little... whatever it is."

"No."

"So I won't be picking daisies and giggling like a child with you lot?"

You could say that the look they gave Eleanor from over their shoulder was enough to shut her up. They're once stoic expression was now completely shifted and focused on one thing: anger.

"Sorry." She mumbled.

Although her one and only duty in the big ol' Sanctuary was to act and be a little shit, she still respected certain clear boundaries.

Not long after her long period of asking questions with no answers following, they ended up behind a large metal door—already she was regretting her decisions of even listening to Negan. She should've dragged the conversation on longer.

"In." They demanded in complete unison. Eleanor passed a look between the two before pushing open the door.

Maybe she should've chosen one of the many jobs they offered, ranging from a cook to (basically) a janitor. Maybe if she picked straight away, she wouldn't be standing in a room with two sets of eyes on her.

"Oh." She said, a bit too nonchalantly. "Oh."

"Oh?"

Elle just huffed, her shoulders rising then dropping. "It's only you two."

"Only?"

"Why are you repeating my words? What are you: a fucking parrot?"

Slowly, the man with a receding hairline (or no hairline) slowly dragged his eyes to the big man, the boss. "Jesus Christ, you were right."

"Told you."

Then their gazes were back on her. The lad without a hairline was grinning out of pure amusement while the other man had his eyes drag up and down her body, narrowing when he saw a tattoo peek out from just under her shoulder, where her jumper slowly dropped in the slightest.

"Found a job yet, sunshine?" Negan asked, standing up while leaving Lucille resting on the large table. "I heard you got some pretty good offers."

"If a fucking cleaner is a good offer, this place must be a shithole."

The man with no hairline snorted, pointing at Elle as laughter spilled from his lips. "Oh, she's great!"

"I'm not a comedian, mate."

"Debatable."

Eleanor's tongue twisted in between her teeth, eyes narrowing on the grinning Negan as the man beside him watched the altercation with a smirk. "I don't want to be a cleaner, I don't want to be a comedian—I want something good."

"Do I really have to fucking remind you that you're here, with your own room and soon a job when you should be rotting in a cell after you first broke in? I mean, you're lucky I'm sparing you, sunshine."