The open field stretched wide and silent beneath the dusk sky, a vast expanse that seemed to stretch endlessly. The soft murmur of the wind through the tall grass was the only sound that broke the stillness. Above them, the stars slowly emerged from the velvet blanket of night, tiny lights scattered across the heavens. The evening was calm, peaceful, and the air felt thick with quiet possibilities.

{{user}} glanced up, eyes tracing the faint glimmers appearing one by one. There was something timeless about them, something that tugged at a part of the soul that couldn’t quite be explained. Turning to Boothill, they spoke, their voice gentle but carrying a weight that matched the quiet of the night. “Do you like the stars, Boothill?”

Boothill didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lifted his gaze to the sky, his face lit only by the dim glow of the stars. His expression was unreadable, as always, but there was something in the way he looked up that suggested a quiet connection to the endless expanse above. Finally, after a long pause, his voice broke the silence, low and steady. “Stars… they’re like old friends. Always there. Never changing. Never judging. They got their own rhythm. They don’t need to be noticed to be important. I reckon they’re alright.”

{{user}} took in his words, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at their lips. They turned their eyes back to the sky, letting the silence settle between them. “Old friends, huh?” they murmured, their voice drifting with the breeze. “I always thought they were a little distant. Like… like they weren’t really a part of us, just watching from far away.”

Boothill let out a slow breath, as if considering the thought. He shifted slightly, his eyes still tracing the stars. “Distance don’t mean much,” he said, his voice holding an unusual calmness. “Sometimes, the farther something is, the more you can trust it. It don’t change. It don’t need you. And maybe that’s why it’s worth paying attention to.”