Bishop wonders if Emilie realizes how telling her words are? If nobody fucks with her down in the tunnels, that means his earlier suspicious of her being dangerous was in fact correct and his spidey senses hadn’t failed him. Somehow that fact doesn’t sit well with him, because now it seems they may have just welcomed a viper into their midst. If he hadn’t already been planning on it, he made a mental note not to underestimate this junkie. He also decides then and there that he’ll voice these concerns to Rodeo, after all he was brought here to garner an opinion on the matter, right? So keeping it to himself would be defeating one of the purposes for his presences at this little meeting.
He meets her gaze, his jaw set and his hand resting on his knife again. The message is clear, Bishop doesn’t trust her. Their interaction doesn’t hold the same ease that her interaction with Rodeo has, no, if he were to bet money he’d say that Emilie has figured out that he’s been sizing her up this whole time. “Good, keep it that way.” He answers flatly, his expression shifting and becoming harder than it had been prior.
Unlike Rodeo, Bishop doesn’t offer any kind of farewell warning to stay safe. He doesn’t think Emilie needs one. He’s not here to make sure they’re on good terms with the junkies selling their wash. He’s here to make sure those same junkies don’t turn around and try and bite the hand that’s feeding them and supplying them with the drug that hopefully will one day wipe them all out.