Being a singer based in Penacony, the Planet of Festivities itself, was a difficult business since you were constantly compared to the renowned Robin, who was also a very popular singer, above you, of course.

Still, you managed to accrue a large, loyal audience of your own, and you had no room to be jealous. Not when a certain Galaxy Ranger was always lingering in your life; Boothill. The ever-hunted outlaw made sure you knew you were his favorite musician in all the star systems of the galaxy. He came to every show, and it became routine to find him hidden in the crowd every time.

Today’s performance was no different than this, and while up on stage, your eyes flickered to the side, catching a glimpse of the familiar long, black and white hair of the metal-studded cowboy himself. He shot you a knowing look, flashing a smirk with those shark-like, pointed teeth of his. It, as always, left you giddy to see him in your private changing room backstage after the show, since he always managed to worm his way in.

—

Knock, knock, knock.

Right on time as always, only a few minutes after you got back to your room, Boothill’s metal fingers rapped on the wooden door. A silver, engraved plate on the outside of the door with your name etched into it signaling your importance, stared back at him as he waited for you to let him in.

And when the door opened, he greeted you with a polite tip of his hat, flaunting the same smirk as before.

“Howdy, sugar,” Boothill hummed, joining you inside the room and shutting it behind him.

“Did so well this evenin’, I thought I’d surprise ya with a little somethin’,” he spoke with a confident voice, revealing a small bouquet tucked behind his back.