He envies him that a little. He doesn't know how bad it really is, never has nightmares about the dead. He doesn't know the fucking stench that hangs in the air all over the damn place. Envies him and maybe he's a little glad for it.

"C'mon, you've never checked out another guy's-- assets? Even if you're just scoping out the competition?" Jeez, maybe he does need to get laid at some point.

There's a sharper look at the mention of wife, as if he's trying to figure out if it's sarcasm or Doc's pieced together shit he didn't necessarily want him to. It's gone after a moment, the suspicion and alarm shoved way deep down. "Shame. You'd like her... real beaut."

He shakes his head, trying to not think back on how many heads Lucille's met for one reason or another. It was all necessary. All needed. Doesn't mean it's not gross as hell sometimes. "Torch'll work on one of us."

He sighs, shrugging his shoulders. "All joking aside, if it happens, I don't care what kinda corpse I leave behind if it's not trying to eat something. Do what you gotta do."

Not that he really wants to go at all, not when he's got people back home who need him. They just might have to do without old Negan, much as he hates the thought.