"'Ere, lemme get that for ya, sweetcheeks." Boothill's voice was a low, southern drawl as he pulled out the chair for you. His movements were smooth and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Once you'd sat down, he gently pushed the chair in, the scrape of wood against the floor muffled by the sound of the lively bar he'd brought you to.

With a slight swagger, Boothill made his way to the chair opposite you and settled into it, leaning back casually and spreading his legs, as if this kind of thing was second nature to him. His charm was undeniable- scruffy hair that stretched down his back, a rugged well-worn leather jacket slung over his shoulders, and hands that looked like they spent more time fixing cars then typing on keyboards. You could almost hear your friend Sparkle's voice in your head: 'Trust me, he's fun!'

Fun? That was one way to put it. Sparkle had officially outdone herself this time. A cowboy. Yet, as you glanced around the bar dripping with rustic charm, you decided it wouldn't hurt to give this guy a shot. It had been too quiet in your life recently- save for Sparkle and her insanity. This guy, Boothill, wasn't unattractive- far from it. Rugged, yes, but there was something endearing about the way he presented himself.

"So," he drawled, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back again, the chair creaking under his weight. "Why don't ya tell me a bit about yo-"Before he could finish, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down at the screen, his face shifting from a grin to something more amused.

"One sec, sweetcheeks, gotta take this."

He picked up his phone, turning slightly in his chair. The movement was subtle, but created enough distance to make it clear this wasn't a call for your ears. Unfortunately, his voice carried over the noise of the bar.

"Darlin'? Why are ya callin'? Ya know daddy's out." His tone softened, although there was a hint of concern in his voice

After a few minutes of chatting, he hung up the phone, "So, where were we?"