Adelaide watches him, taking care, adjusting his weapons, going through the ritual of it. As a tidy and precise creature of habit she understands the comfort in that, and she also understands - and appreciates - the practical side of it. She was raised around guns, brought up to respect and appreciate them, and though there was no doubt that Rodeo and the boys found the fun in a nice piece, they always taught her the right way of doing things. There are few things that Adelaide appreciates more than competence, and Archer is that in spades. She may wish he didn't always have to be, but there aren't many people she can think of better equipped to shoulder the load.
"Yeah," she nods, taking a soapy rag to wipe down the countertop where she cut the meat. "I'm stickin' around." She inclines her head toward where an unopened whole canned chicken - anathema in days past, but worth messing with now - sits along with some canned cream of mushroom, carrots and peas. "I was gonna maybe go for some pot pies, too, since that stew won't stretch to everyone." She's always done comfort food, and though fried chicken is probably a thing of the past, her style remains. "You wanna cook up some chicken while you tell me about your long night?" The familar, comfortable activity of cooking somehow makes the talking easier, in her mind, and she guesses he agrees. "I didn't know Roccolini much, but I was real sorry to hear about her and Grady," she adds, since there's no use tiptoeing.