Rodeo doesn't recognize any of Gray's descriptions, which doesn't surprise him much. He doesn't go into the underground and he doesn't see much of the Ghouls who aren't washed out, so this sick bird and her bitch-boy don't ring any bells to him. He doesn't know any Italians and he doesn't reckon he'd like to, considering the state of Wolfe and the things he tells him. Rodeo's jaw grits as he watches the road and listens, taking it all in. Wolfe says that he doesn't believe it was a power play, that the couple didn't seem to know who they had on their hands, which makes Rodeo wonder if they're fairly new to the city. Even the Ghouls know the city's politics, and he doubts they could go on for long without learning the role Grayson Wolfe has at the Library.
Rodeo cracks a grin when Gray makes his joke, and for a moment he feels wildly grateful that Wolfe appears to be exactly who Rodeo believed he was. He is bloody and beat-up and in a stolen truck with a blown wheel on his way to a camp full of criminals, and he's making a joke like it's just another day in the life. That's the kind of fella Rodeo doesn't even have to struggle to understand-- he gets it. The world is an absurd place. Might as well make a joke about it.
"See now, we gone and picked the wrong path in life. We oughta start makin' music, right? 'Cept it'd be such a big band, reckon we'd be one o' them weird hippie gigs where everybody plays somethin' that ain't an instrument, like drummin' on a rock and scratchin' up washboards." The van starts shaking roughly as he takes it off the road to head across the sandy dirt of the Greenbelt, crossing towards the gates of the Dog Park. He takes his phone back from Gray, quickly typing out a warning to his guards that he's coming in a Capitol van and then a message to Vic to fetch the Pup and Marcus. He's sure the rough ride on the busted wheel isn't doing Wolfe any favors, so he tries to stick to flat ground whenever possible. "Almost there, brother. Hang tight."