"What do you miss?"
Saga opened her eyes and rolled onto her back, Negan's arm around her shoulders. His hand was still tracing circles on her collarbone and she smiled, enjoying his touch. "What do you mean?"
"From before... all of this." He waved his free hand toward the windows. "Everyone's got something. What about you?"
Saga thought about it for a while, tucking herself back up against his side and slowly peppering his bare chest with kisses. "I miss... coffee. And scented things. Everything smells like blood and sweat now, even when you wash it. "
"Coffee?" Negan tilted his head to look at her, amused. "You drink coffee like nobody's business. I've seen you."
"That's survival coffee," she replied with a soft snort. "I mean... espresso. Made with steamed milk and chocolate. Or caramel." She grinned up at him, tucking one hand under her chin to keep from digging it into his chest. "Frufru coffee drinks. Scones. The shit you get when you sit someplace with a barista and an espresso machine screaming in the background with jazz playing on the radio. I miss coffee shops, I guess." Saga paused and tilted her head. "What about you?"
"Watching football or basketball on TV." Negan smiled, looking almost sheepish. "Mindless entertainment with commercials for shit you don't want or need while you're drinking a beer." He ran his fingers along her shoulder, just letting the tips of his fingers trace through her hair. "I mean, we can get beer. We can get coffee. But how you drink it is half the fun."
Saga let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. "I guess so. I miss having pets, too, actually."
"You had pets?" Negan raised an eyebrow curiously. "I mean, non-human ones, because you seem to collect the human kind like a fucking crazy cat lady."
Saga glared at him, but smiled. "Yes, the non-human kind. Cats, actually, since you mention them. I had two, back in my apartment." Her face sobered and she looked down, studying his chest hair for a long, sad moment. "I suppose they starved to death, waiting for me to come back."
"Tell me?" Negan asked in a low voice, stroking her hair.
"They were from the same litter," she whispered, her eyes closed. "Fishbait and Mimic. Fishy was orange tabby with a white chin and white whiskers. Only white on him. It was like he drank milk as a kitten in a dish and got it smeared on him and it stayed. He liked to sleep under my chin at night. I... started sleeping on my back, just because of him. Mimic was a calico tabby, split right down the middle of her face. Orange tabby on one side, brown tabby on the other. The rest of her was more piecemeal, but her face was perfectly split. Means she might have absorbed a sibling before birth, been a chimera, but that takes a genetics test to find out and I was never that invested in it. One blue eye, one green, too. She was a little bitch. To me and to her brother. And to anyone who came into the apartment. She hated Jon but she hated everyone. They'd be... about three if they're still alive."
Negan stroked her cheek very slowly, watching her face as a few tears leaked out from under her closed lids. "I'm sorry," he whispered. She tried to smile, but the tears came harder and she hiccuped out a little sob. Negan sighed and drew her against his chest, kissed her forehead and rocked her slowly. "I'm so sorry." The emotion coming out of her was more than he had ever seen her express before and he held her tightly. "Where were you?"
"Bordentown," she gasped, then reached up and wiped at her face. "Bordentown, New Jersey. I had a neighbor watching them when Jon and I toured." Negan cupped her face and Saga struggled against another sob when his thumb brushed away her tears. "Stop." She pulled back and sat up, turned away from him and gasped for air. "Just... stop."
