Rodeo listens to Marcus, and in his mind there's some sort of checklist that he goes down as the guy talks-- he's already marked him off as big n' mean enough to brawl if he's got to, rational enough to keep cool when he should, and smart enough to know the difference between the two. He already rides, and the added bonus of being able to maintain his own bike is just icing on the cake at this point, but Marcus keeps going.
When Marcus mentions being a great lay, and Rodeo's reaction is about the same as Teagan's, amusement tugging his mouth into a smirk. "You'll get plenty o' practice here, brother," Rodeo assures him. He nods in the general direction of the fire, where the girls are gathered to share lunch, each one of them beautiful and wild and ready for fun. The ample supplies are hardly the only spoils here, and the girls sure do sweeten the pot significantly.
But then Marcus gets to the real boon, and Rodeo can't even reel in the interest that shows in his face. It's not about the drugs-- he ain't even sure what acetamo-whatever is and he doesn't really care. Medical supplies aren't really something they're short on. What they need is someone who knows how to use 'em, and that's what they've been lacking for too long. When Marcus delivers the news about knowing first aid, Rodeo looks over to Teagan, brows arched in a look that he's turned on her quite a few times before. It's a sardonic sort of look that seems to say "Really, T?" and is exclusively reserved for times when she delivers in such a huge way that all Rodeo can do is tease her for it. Forget the fact that she didn't mean for the guy to be such a huge score-- Rodeo still gives her that look, as if he's just plain exasperated by how well she's done.
He looks back to Marcus, more entreating now than ever. He nods in agreement with Teagan's assessment of their junkie population-- Rodeo has no tolerance for users of any kind in his camp, no matter what their poison of choice might be. They drink like fish and smoke like Austin's stock of cigarettes is about to go bad, and some folks even roll joints to pass around the fire at night, but anything beyond that buys someone a one-way ticket to the wasteland.
"Lost two men the past month to infected wounds," Rodeo tells Marcus, his tone even more candid than ever. "Everybody here, their best guess at patchin' up is duct tape and sweat rags. You even know how to stick a fuckin' band-aid on right and you already made yourself invaluable 'round here. We got some supplies of our own, got some drugs with names ain't nobody can even pronounce, but we don't have a damn soul who knows what they're doin' with any of it. Shit, got mamas and babies and girls nine months in ready to pop, and their best shot at survival is a damn Eagle Scout." Rodeo doesn't even mention the dental hygienist. Delta told him to put Icy Hot on his balls to deal with a sweat-itch, and that fucker's good as dead to him now. "One of the shelters is a hospital, but we can't even bring none of ours in. Hospital answers to the Capitol, and the Capitol says they gotta report it if we show our mugs 'round there. Any one of us shows up lookin' for help, we ain't gettin' shit but a ride to the Mayor's Department of Justice." Rodeo says that last bit with enough emphasis that it should be clear that justice isn't what's being served in that place.