Adelaide decidedly does not pull her hands out of Rodeo's grip. Instead she holds on tight, uses him like a touchstone to ground her and shake her out of her absurd reaction. But she just can't help it. She's been a numb, reclusive thing since Rodeo's sentencing six years ago, and though Charlie woke up parts of her, and Archer means more to her than she'd have thought at all likely, these feelings she has now are old and deep rooted and bittersweet and they're the entire foundation of who she is, who she's been trying so long now not to be anymore.
She lifts up her head just enough to look across at Sarge with the smallest and wateriest of laughs, and then she fixes her eyes on Rodeo's, right up close enough that she can see the details of his iris, where there's not a speck of anything but blue. Now that he can see her face, she doesn't look angry or disappointed or any of the things he expects. She just looks plain overwhelmed. "I'm sorry Jims, I didn't mean to spoil the tour," she says, feeling a touch on the ridiculous side huddled there like she got hit by a truck. "It's just I never thought I'd ever get to go home again."