Rodeo's arms feel empty without Adelaide in them now, and he takes the time while Sarge is hugging her to pull up the bottom of his shirt, using it to dry the tears on his face. Doing so reveals their daddy's big old belt buckle on his jeans, which don't really fall where they ought to anyway, as well as an ugly set of scars on his lower back that disappear under the black kevlar vest. He drops his shirt back down after his face is dry, though his eyes are still shining despite himself. He looks over when Adelaide turns back to him, sniffing once, quickly, as if he can play it off without it seeming too much like a sniffle.
He listens to her explanation, and it's hard to tell just how he's taking it. His blue eyes are wet and watchful, studying her face as she speaks. He listens, and with each word he feels his stomach drop down further, until he feels a little nauseous from the hurt that churns riotously in his chest. He swallows tightly and nods, because he's not sure what else to do.
He guesses it was him, that loud sound that left the ringing in her ears, and once he was gone she must have realized how bad he really was for her. Him getting locked up, that was the sudden silence. When he was finally gone, she could see clearly. He was never any good for her anyhow. So she took off, and he guesses she'd done well for herself. She's set up in the Capitol, clean and safe and well fed. Without the noise, she did just fine. Better than she could have with him around, probably.
So Mama was right all along.
He sniffs again, more sharply this time, and gives a couple of quick blinks to stave off more tears. He presses his lips together, and decides that he can't handle hearing her say anything else about being better off without him. He quickly changes the subject. "You said in them letters that you needed to meet me for medicine. What kinda medicine were you lookin' for? You ain't sick, are you?"