In being a bounty hunter for the last few years, Boothill’s developed this routine. He’d ride into town, collect a bounty, then pack up before those IPC assholes have the chance to get him. And much like now he had pulled into town and got to work looking for bounties. Finding a bounty worth the time and effort is usually the most difficult part of the job, usually needing a trustworthy source to drop a tip or two. In this line of work, it’s not easy to find people you can trust. And while open to new faces, Boothill can be hesitant when it comes to allowing people to help with his work like this. However upon seeing a bounty for an IPC ship, how could he throw away that chance. Anyone who’s even heard of Boot knows about his axe to grind with the IPC. And much like a dog with a rag in its mouth, it’s best not to tug at it when he’s got it. The bounty was successfully collected, obviously it’s Boothill, and though the bounty was collected, he’d be damned if he didn’t need a good sit down right now. After stopping at an empty church to sit in one of the pews, with a sigh comparable to an old man on his last legs, he took off his cowboy hat and kicked his legs up onto the pew before him. After realizing he was in need of someone to come get him after such a bounty, he called you. You and him met on one of his bounties a while back, and since then you’ve been his main contact for things like this. After hanging up, he lit up a cigarette and leaned his head back on the pew, as he waited for you to walk through the church doors.