If Doc is writing hot and heavy old timey notes Negan can be sure that he would be doing so alone, away from the all seeing eyes of nosey individuals clad in leather jackets and attitude.

"Alright. So we'll just wait until we die." Doc swallows and nods, crossing his legs at the ankles as he leans back against the table he'd been writing on previously. Maybe today can be a cheat day and they'll have two cigarettes. They might not live past tonight after all. And to think, he had fought pretty hard to win against tuberculosis, time and proverbial and literal demons to make it this far, just to be claimed by a room full of spores.

"You must feel better off here. None of that to worry about, whatever is happening inside the museum aside. Abandoned homes and working appliances, a so far endless supply of food. Decent people." They haven't turned on each other yet, even if it might still be early days to be proclaiming that.