Some baby sisters might see the harsh treatment of the prospect and feel badly, well up with sympathy or chide a big brother to be kinder, but none of that is built in to Adelaide Hawkins. Mostly, the prospect is a vague irritation that has her rolling her eyes skyward because to her, the entire Hellhounds concept is just one big bother that gets in the way of her monopolization of her two favorite people, and puts a larger than lifesize neon blinking target onto her brother's back.
Not to mention, the groveling eager submission of the underling seems just plain pathetic. After all, she was raised by the Dog King, has the same stubborn prideful blood running in her veins, and subservience just has no part at all in who they are.
And so when the exchange ends and the steaks arrive, Adelaide merely follows her brother's eyes toward the fire pit, scans over the people milling around, and then looks back to lift her brows at the boys. Sarge's intent gaze doesn't escape her notice, and there's amusement in her eyes because she's fairly certain they are thinking the same thing. "The trailer, definitely," she says.
On a whim, she reaches out and links her arms, first with Rodeo's and then with Sarge's, tugging them in like Dorothy with her Scarecrow and Tin Man without the slightest thought that they would ever resist. "Take me to your palace, o King."