All Bishop heard was the shouts and usual commotion when someone was gearing up for a fight. the Chaplain wasn’t the one prone to keeping the peace, sure, he liked making sure every last soul in this place knew damn well where the line was and they walked it. But honest to god keeping of the peace was left to Vic, but the enforcer was nowhere in sight. So, setting aside the jar of ‘shine he’d been nursing and shifting Cherry off of his lap with a gentle “Sorry, darlin’”, Bishop found his way over to the gathered crowd. At the center of it was the wild woman Rodeo had brought in earlier that day, knife to Pinky’s chest and a look in her eyes that said she meant to use it if she had too.
There was something about the woman that drew Bishop in, something in her blue eyes that flashed and caught his attention. Behind the rage, behind the feral animal that she presented with, deeper there was a woman that made him want to learn more about her.
First he had to make sure she didn’t kill Pinky, though.
“Whoa, darlin’, how ‘bout you take that knife away from his chest,” Bishop spoke evenly, gently even, as if he were speaking to a wild mustang that might spook easy. “You’ll learn Pinky here is harmless, so you don’t need to go putting his blood on your hands.” He continued as he came to stand next to her, ready to pull her off Pinky if he had to.