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"I just don't know what to do anymore." Vada slammed the glass, causing the green liquid to spill over the marble surface. "I mean look at the mess I've gotten myself into. Arguing with Negan is futile. It'll get me nowhere, as soon as I mention that I want to go home he'll revert to his old ways like that. Mark my word."
"That's Negan for ya, darlin'." Simon pursed his lips and ripped a sheet of paper towel from its roll. "Don't worry, I'll get that for you."
"Thanks." She slurped from the brim of her scant drink and scrunched her face. "I don't understand how you drink this regularly. Tequila is disgusting."
He pointed and cocked his brow. "It's called a margarita, sweetheart. A drink concocted by the goddamn gods, if you ask me." He lifted a corner of his mouth and held the glass in the air. She lazily tapped the brim of her glass to his.
"To abolishing teetotalism." She slurped the bitter liquid.
Simon's mustache curled. "Sorry? Did you just choke?"
She refrained from rolling her eyes. "No, it means abstaining from alcohol. Before the apocalypse I was convinced I wasn't gonna drink a drop of alcohol in my life because I'd seen first-hand what it could do to a person. I gave all that up, of course, a few months in, when our group went for a rather unpleasant transitory stay at the CDC. Came across an abundance of alcohol, we all drank our hearts out. I couldn't believe my mother let me."
He sipped from his drink. "You all got shit faced, sounds like a hell of a time to me. What made it rather unpleasant?"
"He blew it up," she said nonchalantly. "He wasn't going to let us out but we managed to make it far enough away in time. One stayed."
Simon curled his lips and exhaled. "Shit, sugar, you have had some mighty hardships. Another fucking sip to that."
She downed the rest of her drink and stuck out her tongue. "What were you before all this?"
"A bartender." He jerked his glass making the liquid almost spill from the edge. "Yeah, a damn good one at that."
"I can imagine." She lowered her brows. "You should have been a therapist."
"A shrink, huh?" He chortled. "I guess so. Damn. Screw that, I wouldn't a been able to hold my tongue."
"Yeah, you're right. You're good at consoling me but that's only because you make good drinks and listen well."
"I'm all ears, darlin'. Want another glass?" He got up from his seat before she could answer.
"Yeah, less alcohol this time though."
"More alcohol? Got it." He leaned back on his knee and tilted the glass of tequila. The drink splattered into the cup. Vada reached out and slapped his upper arm.
