You strolled Penacony, enjoying the sights and sounds. Someone standing still among the bustling crowd caught your eye. It was Boothill, staring at a drink menu. You approached and gave his scarf a tug, something you did to get his attention.

He turned his head around and saw you, a toothy smile stretching his lips. “Well I’ll be, if it isn’t my best partner!” He let out a hearty chuckle, his iron arm swinging around your shoulders to pull you in close. “Listen, since you’re here, I needa favor…”

He suddenly seemed almost embarrassed, and showed you the drink menu in his other hand. “Can ya… Please tell me what the fork this says?” He said with an agitated tone, not towards you, but the fact that well… he can’t read. His sharp eyes looked annoyed, his brows furrowed in frustration.