Rodeo wants to do the grand tour, check-out-my-baby-sister-ain't-she-the-greatest parade sometime, but not this time. Not right now. He kind of wants her all to himself, wants to take the time to mull her over and bask in awe at her presence. He knows she'll be going back to the Capitol-- if that big ol' rock on her finger is any indication, there's someone there who will be missing her before long-- but for now she's his. He's not ready to share her with anyone but Sarge just yet.
Rodeo looks to the prospect as he pulls up in Adelaide's SUV, and he arches his brows at the man as he looks eagerly to his king through the dusty windshield. He seems to be hoping for approval, but Rodeo gives him none. He delivers the prospect with a sardonically stern look, tipping down his sunglasses to glare at the kid over them. The prospect loads out of the SUV swiftly, itching to make up for whatever he's done wrong.
"What?" the prospect demands, holding up his hands.
"You better make sure you didn't bust my baby girl's rim when you hit that pothole, fuckhead," Rodeo says, pointing to the drive wheel in front. The prospect seems surprised that the Dog King noticed that mistake at all-- he'd been well ahead of the SUV in formation on the road home. He grumbles, ducking his head to look at the tire in question.
"I'll check it," he says. Rodeo nods once in acknowledgement and then turns back to Adelaide.
"Where you wanna do this, darlin'? The girls set up a grill grate on the fire if you wanna use it, or I got the stove workin' in my trailer," Rodeo says, not looking at the prospect as he brings over the stack of steaks and hands them back over to Sarge.