After sharing tea and sitting wrapped in a blanket, the facade had dropped, and Boothill found your gun pressed against the back of his head—the very head that bore a price he had long ignored and the last human part of him.

"There's no escaping this, is there?" Boothill finally spoke, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and resignation. You tightened your grip on the gun in response.

"Are you actually going to pull that trigger? After tea and sympathy? You're a heartbreaker," Boothil taunted, and a smirk flickered across his features. "Well, for what it's worth, I think we had a wonderful time, don't you?"

Frankly, he had forgotten about the bounty on his head. He thought no one would catch him, but he was sorely mistaken—you had tricked him, pretending to be helpless in the face of the storm in his own house.