Pete and Rodeo, early evening
Ever since he was introduced to the concept of hamartia, the tragic flaw, Rodeo has known all too well what his is. His temper has always been his greatest weakness, a constant destructive force in his life that can tear down in seconds what he's taken years to build. When that rage flares up inside him, there's no doubt who is the master and who is the slave. And when it's all said and done, he's left feeling exactly how he feels now-- shameful. Guilty. Weak.
How could he have let it get the better of him?
The outburst he had outside the Chapel might have been directed at Pete, but it could probably have been anyone. His emotions were high and his nerves rattled, and the combination of the misinterpreted situation with Lita and Pete's accusatory tone had caused an explosion that he shouldn't have allowed to happen. But like a match dropped on a puddle of gasoline, he never really had a choice. It's pure chemistry. The reaction was inevitable.
That don't make him feel any less ashamed of himself now. Whatever Pete's opinions are about his camp, it doesn't change the fact that he's here to help-- or that Rodeo repaid him for his altruism with threats of violence and a racist remark. Whatever negative beliefs Pete had held about the Hellhounds, Rodeo's pretty sure he just reinforced emphatically. His encounter with Pete could have been an opportunity to change someone's opinion about the nature of the Dog King and his crew, one small step in the right direction for them all, but he fucked it up. How the hell are they ever supposed to change the way people see them when the man in charge can't even keep himself from railing on a goddamn doctor treating their wounded at the risk of his own freedom and safety?
It doesn't help none that Lita had to witness it all. He won't soon forget the way she was looking at him before she walked way, and he's got no doubt that it was just what he deserved. He feels low-down, lower than dirt, and when he trudges to the triage tent a few hours after their altercation he makes it a point not to look for her. With the way he's feeling, he's not sure he could stand to see that disgust and anger in her eyes. Maybe folks would argue, would say he deserves to feel it from every angle, but he doesn't think he needs any more of a lashing than the one he's giving himself. His guilt is crushing. He failed his camp in every way today. He can't undo any of it but there is one thing he knows he has to do.
Rodeo spots Pete washing up after another procedure, and he gives a sigh and steels himself before approaching. It's not easy for him to do this, no matter how guilty he feels. It's never easy for him to swallow his pride, not with the size of his ego and his generally hostile nature that makes him feel like everything in life is a battle he has to win. Perhaps he should feel a sense of pride in the fact that he's doing it anyway, but the turmoil he feels just frays his worn-down nerves further. He runs his hand over his face and comes to a stop behind Pete, close enough to talk but not close enough to seem threatening.
"Hey," he says, a little awkwardly, "you think I could talk to you for a second? You know-- outside or somethin'." Rodeo realizes it could be easy to interpret those words as looking for more trouble, even though his demeanor is worlds different from what it had been earlier. He's gone from Cujo to Old Yeller, but he's aware that Pete's got no reason to trust he won't turn again. "M'not lookin' to start nothin'. Just thought we oughta talk about what went down earlier."