In less than ten minutes the world has tilted sideways yet again. Sarge tries to stay calm, but he is shaking, trying to reign in his anger even though he knows it is futile. He has never backed down from a fight, but he doesn't want this particular one. It is everything he had expected and that somehow makes it worse. Rodeo shoves him and he takes a step back, his jaw set and his eyes burning a hole into a spot somewhere over his best friend's shoulder.
"I ain't gonna fight you over this, man." His hands raise up, open and palms facing towards Rodeo and decidedly nowhere near any fighting stances. Slowly but surely he is beginning to doubt his decision to come clean, because if they should come out of this alive she will most likely have changed her mind about all of this anyway. Whatever this is, they never exactly talked about what exactly they are. Were. Most definitely past tense. There is blood in his mouth and a punch bruised his ribs enough that breathing hurts more than usual and he can't do anything about it because he doesn't want it to escalate any further, even though he can feel himself slipping into a mood where throwing punches seems the only reasonable thing to do - and he is surprised that he made it this far without it.
As one last, feeble attempt to end this before it starts he looks at Rodeo, slightly annoyed that he has to look up for that, and slowly shakes his head. "Don't. Take your fuckin' anger out all you want, but don't make me fight you."