It's probably not just Doc. Negan would probably have a field day with Raylan too if he was on the other side of an interrogation table. But whether it's because Doc usually has the patience to deal with anyone and anything other than Negan or because he perhaps wrongly perceives that Negan doesn't seem to pester the other people staying in 1306 half as much as he targets the gunslinger, or hell maybe it's whatever they had said and thought on the night in the museum, Doc feels it personally.
"We'd both had a lot to drink. He annoyed the hell out of me in the bathroom. I thought--" Doc averts his gaze, tilting his head, scratching his eyebrow, then his cheek. He grips the edge of the benchtop he's leaning against, knuckles going white. There's a line. It is a murky as swamp dregs line when it comes to Doc, but it's still there. Sometimes the line moves, but it is clear that some people, like Raylan, are on one side of the line, and other people, like Negan, are not. And while he didn't mind some people encroaching upon it, Negan does manage to find the most infuriating way to push him.
"For some unfathomable reason he couldn't use the damn kitchen sink to 'wash his hands'. I thought maybe he had other reasons, for moving in." For all that he is open and accepting of whatever the hell other people want to do, long as they're not hurting anyone else, he doesn't want to talk or deal with his own internal strife. Doc Holliday is a mixed bag of 'anything goes' and 'repressed asshole', chatty and quiet, classy and tasteless, gentleman and hooligan all at the same time, and it's not always obvious what the current state of those paradoxes are.
In this particular instance, getting this much out of him is like pulling all the teeth in his upper jaw one by one with pliers. He's not saying much more than that.
"We just said some things we shouldn't have." Last week and last night inclusive. Maybe he is saying some things he shouldn't be right now, too.
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"We'd both had a lot to drink. He annoyed the hell out of me in the bathroom. I thought--" Doc averts his gaze, tilting his head, scratching his eyebrow, then his cheek. He grips the edge of the benchtop he's leaning against, knuckles going white. There's a line. It is a murky as swamp dregs line when it comes to Doc, but it's still there. Sometimes the line moves, but it is clear that some people, like Raylan, are on one side of the line, and other people, like Negan, are not. And while he didn't mind some people encroaching upon it, Negan does manage to find the most infuriating way to push him.
"For some unfathomable reason he couldn't use the damn kitchen sink to 'wash his hands'. I thought maybe he had other reasons, for moving in." For all that he is open and accepting of whatever the hell other people want to do, long as they're not hurting anyone else, he doesn't want to talk or deal with his own internal strife. Doc Holliday is a mixed bag of 'anything goes' and 'repressed asshole', chatty and quiet, classy and tasteless, gentleman and hooligan all at the same time, and it's not always obvious what the current state of those paradoxes are.
In this particular instance, getting this much out of him is like pulling all the teeth in his upper jaw one by one with pliers. He's not saying much more than that.
"We just said some things we shouldn't have." Last week and last night inclusive. Maybe he is saying some things he shouldn't be right now, too.