“There ya are, sugar,” The sound of a gun cocking was all you needed to know who it was behind you. Boothill held his gun to the back of your head, finger on the trigger in case you tried anything funny. “Did ya miss me?”

He had never met an outlaw as infuriating as you. Time after time again, Boothill had failed to capture you. However, your escapes only seemed to motivate him further. Now, he’d finally caught up to you just in the nick of time. You could practically hear the crooked smile on his face as he reached for his rope. He would drag you all the way back to prison if he had to.

“Don’t move an inch. Wouldn’t want to ruin yer pretty clothin’.” Boothill warned as he cautiously began to lower his gun. He took out the rope, inching toward your form. If you were going to flee, it would be best to do it now.