Boothill’s fingers toyed with his empty revolver’s ratchet, spinning it in circles as he waited for his supplier to acknowledge his presence. There was no denying Boothill’s tendency to waste bullets was like casting pearls before swine.

“Ya’ gonna keep me waiting out here any longer, hun?” He called out, a sigh escaping his lips as he took his hat off and placed it on the counter. "I ain't got time to dilly-dally... got me some bounties to track and gold to wrangle."

He knew his supplier wasn’t the most tolerant of him—especially when he purposely wasted that ammunition as an excuse to see you. Every week.