Bishop's words are meant as a warning, and Rodeo hears that loud and clear. He brings his gaze back to Emilie, because even if he imagines she's harmless, he'd be foolish to believe he can't be proven wrong. Emilie doesn't give any further details about this soulmate, but she doesn't need to. Whatever it is, it's big. The reaction she gives to the question is the most stirred he's seen her so far, and there's no doubt that somebody will be missing her if she drowns herself in these drugs. It should make Rodeo wary, but it only makes him want to help her more. If somebody loves her, clearly she ain't all just addiction and desperation. There's gotta be something there worth loving, and that means there's something worth saving.
Rodeo shrugs up his shoulders at her question, a grin curving his mouth again, this one more arch and perhaps a little arrogant. "It ain't our hearts the bitches are concerned with, sweetheart," Rodeo drawls. As he speaks, he reaches into the pocket inside his cut, drawing something out from over his heart. Just like the day before, the stuff seems to glimmer in the shadows. Bright green, sharp as bites of lime. The bag holds a fistful of jagged crystals of deadly rock candy, the load much larger than the dust he'd thrown her way yesterday. Rodeo glances down at it, then looks back up at Emilie. It's another little test, perhaps the final one. See if she can keep her cool in the face of a pile of Prax the size of his fist, see how much it rules her. "How long you been usin' this shit?"