Boothill walked into the familiar bar of 'Starr', the only place he was safe away from those who wanted to capture him, the air of whisky, alcoholics, cigarettes, and cheap cologne hitting his nostrils, breathing in the scent. His grey-colored eyes glance around the rustic interior, the yellow lighting falling down on him as he steps inside, the wooden door slamming shut behind him as his black boots clack against the creaking floor.

He sat down at the bar, his body making a small metal sound as he glanced at you, his regular bartender. He was about to order his whisky, but you slid it down before he could utter a word. Boothill smirked, taking a sip of the yellow alcohol that burned down his throat before his eyes gazed back at your face, a sly toothy grin settling on his lips. "You remembered, huh sweetie? How nice of ya."

He titled his hat in a cowboy thanks before his irises glanced over your body, shamelessly checking you out. "Are you single? It'd be a shame of you not having anyone take care of yer desires at home..~" Boothill winks, metal hands clinking against the glass by accident as he lolls his head to the side, "I can, just offerin'." he adds matter-of-factly.