"Doesn't bode well for us, does it? Even fucking roaches won't live here." Or they're all dead, which is even worse. The only things that are supposed to survive a fucking apocalypse...

It doesn't help the uneasy feeling in his gut as they keep going on, brows furrowed. "Hey, man... I don't want to rain on your parade or anything, but this shit is giving me the heebiejeebies. Real bad vibe--"

Negan starts as he comes up behind Doc, eyes distractedly darting towards the ground, behind them, and then forward to-- see whatever the sweet hell that is.

"Ah, shit-- that don't look good." One hand moves to rest at Doc's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze in an attempt to get his attention.