"Atta-girl, one hell of a shot," the cowboy grinned, revealing his razor-sharp teeth as he placed his hands on your waist, hovering over you. "You catch on quick, don'tcha? I reckon I’m fixin’ to buy you your own revolver ay?”

His thick southern accent resonated in your ears as he commended your skill in knocking off multiple cans. Boothill had been your mentor in the art of gunslinging for quite some time now, and despite his flirtatious nature, there was no denying his immense talent.