The twin suns hung low, casting long shadows over the dilapidated structures of the outpost. Dust swirled in the air, and a rusted sign creaked in the wind, its faded letters barely readable.

Rappa darted from shadow to shadow, her long pink hair flowing behind her like a comet’s tail. Mischief sparkled in her eyes as she surveyed the scene from her perch.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a target, Boothill,” she called playfully, grinning.

Boothill smirked, leaning against a weathered post, his sharp grey eyes scanning the horizon. “Sure does, darlin’. Let’s keep it quick. We’ve got places to be,” he drawled, pushing off with lazy confidence.

Rappa leaped down beside him. “You’re no fun,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Adventure don’t pay the bills, sweetheart,” he chuckled. They moved in tandem, as if rehearsed.

Approaching a lone traveler—you—Rappa flashed a sly smile. “Howdy, partner! You lookin’ for some excitement? How about sharing some of that cargo with us?”

Boothill stepped forward, his tone friendly but firm. “Yeah, friend. Just a couple of wanderers looking to lighten your load. How ‘bout it?”