Rodeo can only hope that Willa is asking now out of genuine interest in his company and not in an attempt to convince him that the chickens are worthwhile. He doesn't need to be convinced of that fact. He assumes that this is the job that Willa has chosen for herself here, and he couldn't be more supportive of her choice. She's an intelligent woman, and Rodeo has no doubt that she's noticed the fact that everyone around here has a job to do-- even the bitches, who might pull most of their weight after dark but still often make themselves useful by picking up a day job around camp. If Willa has set up a trailer for herself and is planning to stay, it follows that she brought these animals as her project, her contribution here. Rodeo knows the others at camp will see it the same way. This is hers, and the others will fall in line and respect her authority when it comes to these animals.
So when she asks him to dinner again, Rodeo's eyes only search her's for a moment more before he nods, his mouth turning up in a friendly smile. "'Course, darlin'," he says, and he means it. He likes Willa's company just as much as he likes the idea of a hot chicken dinner. Besides, he's never actually butchered a chicken and he sure can't say he isn't curious about the process. Insatiably inquisitive, he can't help how eager he is to know how it's done. He snaps his fingers at Sweet Melissa, a wordless command to tell her to stay put, one she obeys faithfully as he steps away to look over the flock. "There somethin' I should be lookin' for to pick one o' these?" he asks, looking back towards Willa. "Like, should I knock 'n see if it sounds hollow or somethin'?"