Opinions are being volleyed around the table, people are speaking up and speaking against the idea of meeting with a cop and Bishop’s taking it all in. While it irks him to no end that they’re even sitting here considering the idea, he’s told himself to have an open fucking mind to anything Rodeo might present for a vote - even if that means swallowing his dislike of any man who wears a badge.
“You all know my thoughts on lawmen, so I won’t bore you with those opinions,” he begins, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “What I want to know is what we’re looking to gain from this?” Isn’t that what they were all about after all? If this opportunity held even an iota of possibility for them to advance their own agenda or strengthen their footing in Austin, shouldn’t they consider it?
His eyes slip over the various faces at the table, judging each unspoken reaction, each facial expression. Studying them like he would a chess game, trying to figure out each individuals next response. “Do you think it’s wise to meet the Chief of Police one on one?” Bishop’s attention has shifted towards Rodeo now. “Your sister counts him as a friend, but that doesn’t mean he’s your friend.” These words aren’t said harshly, just matter-of-factly.