Rodeo's rage is only growing, and he's surprised that it isn't really directed at the Ghoul. She had simply come at Sarge's beckoning, and as much as Rodeo loathes her and everything she represents, he reckons he would have done the same if someone called him out to fight on the Freenet. Someone challenges you, not showing is just as good as letting 'em win. There's more honor in getting your ass kicked than in hiding from the challenge. So she came. Now she's holding a knife that she looks like she knows how to use only a few feet away from his brother, and Rodeo thinks he only has Sarge to blame.
He knows who this girl is, anyway. He recognized the username instantly when he perused the exchange that started this all. This is his new dealer. No doubt that she samples the goods, but Rodeo doesn't care about that. He prefers it. It makes his dealers easier to ply, easier to control. Sarge doesn't look like he's about to back off, and that girl is gripping her knife like she's still prepared to use it, but Rodeo isn't going to let this go on any longer.
"I make the game, sweetheart," Rodeo assures her, shaking his head. "And if you wanna work for me, you better not take any more o' my dumbfuck men up on their offers to brawl. You understand? You want the shit, you damn well better do as I say." He reaches into the breast pocket of his cut-- just under the patch that reads KING-- and takes out a little silvery baggy with a meager dusting of electric chartreuse crystals inside. Even in the dim light of the department store, with the storm crashing outside, the stuff seems to glow. Rodeo holds the bag up, letting her see it.