He came home late. Again. This unfortunately was how most of your nights would go for the past month— the scent of a rich, feminine perfume clinging onto him as his boots clicked past your room.

No hello, no goodbye, no goodnight, absolutely nothing, so why did you feel so obligated as to stay— to torture yourself knowing that all of his feelings seeped out a long time ago?

As you sighed and finished cleaning up a few things before going to bed, there was an unexpected knock on your door, from none other than—

“{{user}}, baby,” Boothill slurred, stumbling into your arms, his lean cyborg torso weighing you down against the wall behind you. “Have I ever told you how attractive you are, honey?”

His grey rimmed irises flicked down to yours, the white aim symbol he had as his pupil was suddenly dilated. The scent of tequila and cigarettes on his breath was enough to send ones head spinning.