Irresistible Danger

Greetings & Goodbyes

                  

It would be nice to say you got a decent amount of sleep, but that would be a lie.

After crawling back in bed, you had continued to toss and turn until well after sunrise. Now, your thoughts were divided between the situation with Dwight and Trixie, and the new information Maria had given you. The shock still hadn't worn off since Maria told you that none of Negan's wives had been in his bedroom. You had absolutely no clue what to do with this information and were completely confused, but for some reason it also made you feel equal parts nervous and excited to see Negan again. You drifted off for an hour or so in the late morning before forcing yourself to get up and shower, making the water as cold as was bearable in a feeble attempt to jolt your senses to awareness.

Throwing on jeans and a grey t-shirt, you headed down to the kitchen to start dinner. You were making the peanut butter stir fry again in response to multiple requests from compound members. Despite Negan's taunts, it turned out that plenty of individuals enjoyed your "weird ass sauces" and "sludge". Perhaps you would have to bring this to Negan's attention in the near future, just to see how he would respond to the teasing.

It was as you were opening cans of peas and chatting with Ben that Trixie entered the kitchen. You scrutinized every molecule of her from the top of her bouncy ponytail down to the toes of her green and white sneakers. She had on her usual outfit of a tight t-shirt and even tighter shorts and was her usual giggly, smiling self as she started carrying glasses and wrapped silverware out to the cafeteria to arrange the place settings. You watched her like a hawk, unsure what exactly it was that you were looking for, but still looking nonetheless. Perhaps you were hoping that she would give some indication as to why she was with Dwight last night or that she would act differently in some way, but she didn't do either of those things. She was her usual gratingly bubbly self, and you weren't sure if that made you feel relieved or more on edge about the whole situation.

Something that you definitely couldn't stop thinking about was Trixie's age. Unsure how to broach the subject, you considered throwing out questions such as whether or not she had a driver's license pre-apocalypse or if she graduated high school, but decided it would look weird to bring up either topic since you didn't make small talk with Trixie...well....ever.

Instead you continued to watch her while dinner was being prepared, thinking that maybe if you stared at the back of her head hard enough, her age would pop out of her fluffy ponytail in big bubble numbers for all to see.

Unfortunately, this wasn't Harry Potter, and magic didn't exist outside of making dead corpses reanimate.

It was as dinner was being served that your thoughts were finally pulled away from Trixie via a group of dirty, haggard-looking men entering the kitchen. Your heartrate increased in excitement when you recognized them as the men who had gone on the supply run with Negan. He's back! your subconscious squealed.

The men filtered into the cafeteria and sat down at a few tables quietly. They all looked like they were a light nudge away from toppling over, whether from exhaustion or something else you weren't sure. Grabbing a tray of bowls filled with the stir fry, you speed-walked out to their tables to serve them before Trixie or someone else could beat you to the punch.

"Welcome back!" you said cheerfully while setting bowls down in front of the men.

A chorus of mumbles was your only response, which caused your smile to slip slightly. Usually the men were more animated when coming back from a supply run, almost as if they were still high off the adrenaline. Had something bad happened on the run? Did something happen to Negan?!?

Trying to affect a calm and uncaring attitude, you asked the group as a whole, "So, how did the run go?"

The men all became fixated on the bowls of stir fry in front of them, bowing their heads low and spooning food into their mouths as if to give an excuse as to why they couldn't respond. Only one middle-aged man, whom you believe was named Seth, looked up and made eye contact with you.