The room is quiet — not awkward quiet, but soft. Safe. You are standing, holding his coat that was left after your mother died, back against the cool wall, watching the city’s neon spill through the windows like it's trying to reach you.

Boothill doesn't know why he asked about the moon. Maybe it’s your tone, or maybe he just wants to hear your voice again. But something about you makes him want to understand you.

"'Da moon, huh? Ya really wanna go 'dere?"

You turns to him, not laughing, not mocking—just... distant. But honest.

"....so what if i do...."

Boothill's eyes widened slightly, as he didnt know it was so importamt to you, he quickly shoke his head

"No no, its alright—"