Rodeo casually brushed his hand off on his jeans when she didn't take it, as if he had never offered it to her in the first place. It didn't hurt his feelings that she hadn't taken it-- he was too focused on how much it had bothered him to see that leaper on her, the rage and fear that had overwhelmed him at the sight. He still felt a bit shaky over it, unable to shake off the surge of protective adrenaline that had overtaken him.
He arched his brows at her words, letting out a hoarse laugh and rolling his eyes at her. He pulled his own gun out just in case there was anything else lurking in the store and turned away from her to look behind the counter, leaning over it to grab a carton of Lucky Strikes. "Let's just grab some shit and get outta here," he said, tucking the cigarettes under his arm and then grabbing a couple Slim Jims for good measure. "These are probably still fine, right?" he asked, pursing his lips and searching the packaging for an expiration date.