While his eyes might have remained on their makeshift chess board, Bishop’s mind was miles away, the cogs spinning about like they always did when he was too still. The peace, the quiet, or what passed as both within these walls, all they offered him was a chance to think about the things he had been avoiding. Or more namely the ‘thing’, the source of his heartache and the barrage of troubling thoughts. He still didn’t know how he could have missed it, a fact that circled ‘round and ‘round, one that ate away at the ‘facts’ of what they knew. Facts that had been handed to them by the Capitol, the source as untrustworthy as they come. Could they believe what the pig had said, or was there something deeper going on there. Had Teagan been marked as the rat to throw them off? Still, it made no sense. If she wasn’t the rat, if it truly was Sonny, why was he locked up with them? Couldn’t he have worked some kind of deal, found himself not with them that morning. Something ain’t adding up, he just hasn’t been able to pin down what was fact and what was fiction.
His mind is just about as battered as his body, the marks and bruises like a mosaic across his skin. They’re a hodge podge of old and new, the purple of newer bruises melting into the sickly yellowish marks earned days ago. The Chaplain’s hands are just as marked up as the rest of him, the skin across his knuckles bruised and busted. It’s safe to assume he’s seen better days, it’s really safe to assume they’ve all seen better days.
Rodeo’s growl tears him from his thoughts, pulling a chuckle out of him as well. “I warned you ‘bout drinking that shit,” Bishop drawls while he moves a bottle cap on their makeshift board. “And while I won’t discredit either of those things happening to because you drank that poison, I’m fairly certain the horns have always been there, brother.” His mouth is quirked up in a half-smirk, a faint ghost of his usual expression. “Just so you don’t go killing yourself with that stuff, I’ll consider teaching them idiots how to make something that ain’t going to eat away at your insides like some kinda battery acid.”