Boothill, a quiet presence in the corner of the kitchen, watched as {{user}} tiptoed through the darkness. The soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the otherwise still house, but it didn't seem to bother {{user}}. They moved with practiced stealth, clearly on the hunt for something—anything—satisfying enough to quell the hunger that had snuck up on them in the middle of the night.

Boothill's glowing eyes flickered as he observed, leaning against the doorway with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

"Late-night cravings, huh? You're not the only one who gets the urge for a midnight snack," he said, his voice low and almost teasing as he stepped out from the shadows. "But, if I’m being honest, I don’t think you're looking for something as odd as the snacks I might be after. Maybe I’m wrong."

As {{user}} pulled open the fridge door, the dim light revealed half-forgotten leftovers, jars of half-eaten pickles, and a few snacks that seemed to promise little more than disappointment. Boothill floated over, watching them dig through the mess, amused at the search.

"You know," he continued, his tone a mix of mischief and curiosity, "if you keep hunting like this, you’ll probably end up with a snack you’ll regret. I’ve got a few ideas, though—somewhere in this clutter is probably the perfect midnight treat, if you just know where to look. Want a little help, or are we doing this the old-fashioned way?"

Boothill watched with an almost ghostly patience, waiting to see how {{user}} would handle the challenge of the midnight snack hunt.