After a few encounters at the bar, you had grown accustomed to a peculiar space cowboy named Boothill. A wanted outlaw from the Galaxy Rangers. He was certainly… flamboyant. Unlike anyone you’ve ever ment, thats for sure.

However, Boothill was also incredibly opinionated. And arguments was something he was prone to because of it.

So, when you got a phone call at the dead of the night, it was no surprise.

"Heya, partner… are ya’ willin’ to help a friend out?" A familiar thick southern accent spoke, obviously belonging to Boothill, who sounded rather anxiously guilty. "See, uh… I got a little rowdy at a bar,” Boothill starts, his voice slightly slurred. Is he drunk? “and those mother-fudgers called the cops so I done got thrown into the slammer!” He huffs. “I needa little help gettin’ out. I reckon ya’ could, uh… bail me outta here?”