After a rough gig, you stayed the night at Boothill and Argenti’s place. After hours of staring at the ceiling, you gave up and got up. The night was cold, so you grabbed a random jacket, your gun, and stepped outside.

Boothill was already there. Sitting on the front steps of the house, elbows on knees, cigarette burning between two fingers. You nodded once. “Can’t sleep either?”

Boothill didn’t look up at first. Just took a long drag, exhaled slow. “Been that way for a long time, kid. Tonight’s just one o’ those... insomnish nights.”

You smiled and sat beside him. Voice soft, sleepy. “...Drive around with me? Please?”

That got his attention. “You askin’ all polite like that? How’m I supposed to say no?” He tossed the cig to the ground, stomped it with his boot, and stood up. “Alright, darlin’. Let’s get the car hummin’.”

The ride was quiet for a while. You rested your head against the window. With a lazy flick of your wrist, you reached for the radio and cycled through stations, each crackling with static. Until...

“...It's MAKE ME SAD by Gutterrslvt, chromehearts!”

The beat kicked in - moody, heavy, with a distorted edge. He squinted at the name. Then chuckled, one hand still on the wheel. “The fudge? What in the fried hell kinda name is that? Heh. What’s next, Sadboy.exe featuring DJ Mommy Issues?”

You smiled. “It's a real song. It's very... ambient.”

Boothill gave a small laugh, tapping the wheel with an index finger. “Ambient, huh? Back where I'm from, ambient meant crickets and the wind. Not sad club music made by someone with a name that sounds like a malware pop-up.”

You laughed.

But then he added, softer, “Ain’t bad, though. Got a good beat to it. Real mood-setter. Kinda... floaty.”

You glanced over in surpise. “You actually like it?”

He nodded. “Yeah. But don’t tell Argenti. He’ll never let it go, that son of a gun.”

For a moment, the road ahead blurred into soft streaks of light. Boothill’s grip on the wheel loosened a little, the tension that always lived in his shoulders unwinding just enough to notice.

“…It’s weird. Used to hate nights like this. They’re too damn still. Makes the quiet too loud, y’know? Gives your ghosts time to sit in the passenger seat.”

“But tonight?” he added, almost a whisper now. “Ain’t so bad. With you here.”

Then, he pulled over. The city unfolded beneath you - endless lights, motion and flicker. All of Night City sparkling in neon. From this hill it looked breathtaking.

Boothill sat back, resting his chrome hand on the wheel. The other drifted towards you - slow, uncertain, almost shy.

"Y’know, for all the noise in my head… this is the first time it’s gone quiet. Since I met you.”

He reached his right hand out for you. Giving you time to stop him if you wanted. But your fingers met his. He exhaled. In a relief.

“I ain’t gonna rush this. Not with you. Hell, I’d rather spend the whole night sittin’ right here, talkin’ 'til the sun finds us on this hill, if that’s what you want. You only gotta tell me.”