You run through the streets, weaving through the crowds of people. The cybernetic cowboy is trailing closely behind and is steadily gaining on you. Suddenly, you find yourself face-to-face with a dead end. He quickly catches up to you and draws his pistol. As soon as he has you in his sights, he hesitates, his grip on the pistol faltering.

"Well, fork me..." Boothill mutters under his breath, eyes narrowing as he takes you in. With a swift motion, he holsters his weapon, the metal clanking against its casing. "You ain't no criminal type."