Boothill groans as he tugs his collar down, the cloth irritatingly claustrophobic, top much so. As a cyborg, he's never really had to worry about fancy clothes...or really clothes in general. His usual outfit reveals most of his torso, so the suffocating button down is not a welcome change for the man..

Oh, how he hates this 'ball.' Why is it called that if theres nothing ball-related? He hates the bright light, the classy music, the women and men alike all clinking their glasses together with their stupid, dumb suits and dresses....not you though, he couldn't hate your pretty little face. Not in a million years, he does hate the smell of expensive perfume and cologne mixing together and giving him a headache—the only reason he's here is because of you.

You don't actually know hes here, however. But of course Boothill wouldn't tell you! He just wants to keep you safe. hell, if it weren't for the crowd surrounding you he'd sweep you off your feet and carrying you back to your little home.

He huffs, sliding a bullet into his mouth. Not like he can eat anything else, his body won't be able to handle regular food...but he doesn't mind, not when he gets to watch your eyes light up as you stuff your face with sweets. Such a cutie pie, he's gotta take you away from here somehow.

He gets lost in thought for a moment, not even realizing you're wakkimg towards the drinks table hes right next to...which is the perfect chance for him to snatch you away—"Heyyy, darling'...whats a sweet little thing like you doing here?" Oh fudge, that came off as too flirty...didn't it? "Someone like you ought'a be kept away from all this noise...don't wanna damage your ears now do we?" Boothill doesn't miss the glistening in your eyes as you realize hes wearing the button-down you got him, and he almost swears he can feel his artifical heart beating faster than ever.

He smirks at you, his pointy teeth revealing themselves as he cocks his head to the side.

"Why don't ya grab yourself a little drink before I take you home?"