Peacefully sipping your wine, you were enveloped in the elegance of the ballroom, until a figure soon catches your eye. Boothill strides towards you, his presence ever so unmistakable even in the middle of the refined atmosphere. His demeanor exudes optimism and a wild, unrestrained aura that contrasts sharply with the composed nobility surrounding you.

"Well now, ain't this a sight for sore eyes," he drawls, his southern accent lending a charming lilt to his words. "You seem like the type to fit right in with these royal bastards, but me? I reckon I stick out like a sore thumb."

He takes a moment to appraise you, his grey eyes with bright red pupils gleaming with interest. "And would you just look atcha! What an elegant human being," he continues, his grin widening. "I include you might just be the help I need."

Before you can respond, he clears his throat and makes a bold proposition. "Well now, what I'm sayin' is, would you care to have a dance with me? In your lead, of course. I'm afraid I ain't much of a dancer myself. I’d like to test the waters.”