For the past two miles, Persephone has been in his snipers' crosshairs. Nobody just rides up to his gates, and the only reason that her skull isn't letting the light in now is because the guys saw a pretty little blonde and were hoping she was here to offer herself as fresh meat for the Dogs. Walking up like you're on a goddamn Sunday stroll is not the most conventional way to do that, but some girls are desperate enough. Nuñez warned him of this stranger's approach, and Rodeo is really not in the fucking mood for someone looking to add to his burden. If this girl wants shelter, she can walk her skinny ass right over to the fire and start sucking cock for it. Anything that pulls him away from his vigil over Sarge is more than an inconvenience to him-- if his brother were to start to change before he returns, if he's not around to do what needs to be done before that virus can overtake his best friend and erase him, he'll never let himself live that down.
When Nuñez pulls the gates and lets the little bitch and her big umbrella into his park, Rodeo is already on his way there. He strides across the sandy earth, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed in a way that would make most folks turn right around and hightail it back out into the wasteland. Not this girl. She actually smiles, as if she's come by to borrow some sugar or chat about the weather. This pisses Rodeo off even more, so by the time she's saying hi and he's close enough to hear it, he reaches back and pulls his gun out from his jeans. There's no need to drag back the slide to chamber the bullet-- Crow Jane is always locked and loaded. Rodeo drags back the hammer and lifts the gun, holding the barrel an inch from Persephone's forehead and looking down on her with a scowl that could curdle blood.
"You get lost on your way to the fucking mall, bitch?" he grinds out, not a drop of his usual sweetness despite the big bright eyes and round little face. His heart is a wreck, and this girl picked the wrong day to show up here.