The store they’re in is a far cry from what it used to be, shelves dusty and merchandise picked over or destroyed. Bishop isn’t paying too much attention to the store and it’s wares though, instead his gaze slowly follows Rodeo as him moves around the store. Dim light catching blond hair and helping him keep an eye on where the other man is. He’s moving about it’s aisle like a caged beast, anxious and unsettled. It worries him, makes him wonder if this meeting today was wise. Bishop can’t think like that though, not while they’re outside the walls of the Dog Park. So all his worries were shoved into the back of his mind, replaced with the knowledge that business has to continue, time stops for no man and things don’t just halt. The minute they let every loss or stroke of bad luck bring them to a grinding stand still, well, that’s the minute they lose what they’ve built.
Things just can’t stop for one man. Not even if that man is Sarge.
Compartmentalizing is the name of the game today. Focus on the task, focus on making sure the Ghoul-bitch doesn’t kill either of them. Once they’re free and clear of this meeting, then they can worry about their Sgt-at-Arms, worry about whether he’ll turn into a zombie or a blob.
Bishop’s posture is more relaxed, back pressed up against a metal shelf and hands tossing an old remote control from hand to hand. If anyone thought he had misgivings about this meeting, they weren’t apparent in his body language. He was calm, collected, at ease. His attention is drawn to the fuzzy little creature in the hands of the Dog King and a chuckle leaves his body when he realizes what it is.
“We used to use those things for target practice back home,” he comments as he eye’s the toy. “Sometimes they’d even cry out in that freaky language of there’s when we'd hit 'em,” for as tough as he looks, Bishop visibly shudders at the memory. “Creepiest damn thing ever hearing one of those things scream after being hit with .45.” He’s about to push off the shelving unit, move closer to the other man and the freaky little children’s toy when voices filter in from beyond the doors of the store and his gaze is drawn back in that direction.
“Show time?” Bishop’s gaze never leaves the door as he asks this question. Last thing either of them needs is to be caught off guard.