Noa is perfectly right in thinking Adelaide wouldn't have judged her for venting those feelings - as a matter of fact she would have welcomed it. Reserved as Adelaide can be, she's not shy about having unpopular opinions and she can dole out a good sized dose of vitriol when she feels it's warranted - maybe enjoys it just a touch more than is strictly good for her. Us vs. Them is not exactly a new idea in the land of Hawkins, and Adelaide's "us" has always been very, very specific. She thinks of Noa as being a bit more diplomatic about her aspersions, but she wouldn't completely hate to be proved wrong.
Once Rodeo comes along and shines his light on them, though, Adelaide can't particularly be bothered to care what anybody else in the camp is saying. She tilts her head and grins when he comes back, reaching out to give the sleeve of his tshirt a tug just for the sake of contact. It's one of her tells when she's been drinking.
"We'd need you to light the fires and inspire us first," she says, and there's no hint of the mockery in it that he's afraid of. It's the leather cuts and patches, the titles and social structure, the lingo, the rules that Adelaide finds absurd, not necessarily the idea of family and loyalty itself. She learned at an early age, in school and in small-town Montgomery, that it's easy to win games you refuse to play, and opinions like that once formed tend to stick. She'd always rather be unclassifiable in a structure like this, than lumped in somewhere. But Rodeo's plan is right - of course she thinks it's right, she helped to form it, was integral in the conversation that gave birth to this - and it only makes sense to present it in a way that will rally the people. She's proud of him. "And to carry the mysterious file folders for our cause, of course," she adds, with a look for the one that's present now.