Sarge rolls his eyes and leans in to look over Rodeo's shoulder while he is writing down names, furrowing his brow as if reading takes up every bit of concentration he can muster. "Keep on dreamin', sunshine. Ain't nobody gonna burst that bubble five minutes after you got out of solitary." The truth is that they did alright without him, but just that. Alright. Scraping by. That he isn't the only one who feels that the presence of his best brother is as much want as need, that their king needs to be in place in order for their rag tag team to function best was somewhat of a revelation, mainly because he so seldom acknowledges that there are other people in the world aside from those that matter most. Sarge will have to figure out whether that shift is a good or a bad thing, eventually.
He tries not to pay attention to the men crowding around them and focuses on the words being spoken instead, but Sarge can't help feeling a little like suffocating. He has never done well with enclosed spaces, and even though this is far from it, the blue sky is right above them, a feeling of dread tries to weigh him down and he plucks at his shirt distractedly, trying to find a cigarette moments after he pulled one out for Rodeo.
Arching an eyebrow he listens intently, but he almost, sort of smirks. "Them cats ain't gonna like that." On one hand he would really like to get out of this hellhole and back to his park, back to nights around the fire, his dog at his feet, and other things he is definitely not thinking about. But he also wants revenge for all the damage the damn cats did to them, to their families. And since he doesn't think he can have his freedom revenge is the next best thing and he can't wait.