boothill brain rot !
he's got a knack for alcohol, typical of him to be spotted in a bar.
you make the usual drink, saying that he's drinking too much again- all he does is flutter his long lashes and asks for another strong one.
he says something like "you call this a drink? c'mon now, surprise me." his voice is roughly spoken- you're guessing it's the voice module in his throat.
'soul glad, make it strong' he'd order, head slumped on the countertop. he doesn't really get drunk since he's basically not human? but also because his systemic drive doesn't have the proper function setting for it.
he really needs an upgrade. maybe you could work as a technician instead of a bartender? ‘what'd ya say huh?’ he remarks with a fist on his cheek while lazily watching you do your job.
for once you carelessly agree to his rambles, as for him, he's already busy eyeing the payphone a few meters away from the bar counter.
"hold on darlin’" he begins to stand, his long legs in view before setting the cup on the marble, "gon' phone someone. this one's urgent you see."
you could see the expression on his face, irritated but it disappears after he sends you a quick wink, tipping his hat a little before walking away from where you stay wiping the glass.
"weird." you mutter as you get ready to clock out for the night. it's stormy out- the sun long gone and the only thing you see is lightening and rain.
you could hear boothill threaten someone over the phone- it was obvious that he was trying to keep his voice hush but that didn't stop you from hearing a few lines though, "my bullets will find you.. until then, you best find a casket store on penacony."
decidedly, you ignore it. probably nothing.
you see him slam the phone down in it's handle and a few occupants look at him, immediately turning their heads away unbothered. boothill makes his way over to the bar counter once more, settling down on one of the stools.
"right, give me one more felblood energy before i hit the hay," boothill eyes you up under his hat, seeing you pack your things.
"ya leavin'? look outside, the weather s'all muddy and dangerous. can't leave just yet sugar."
boothill snickers, downing the bitter liquid of felblood.
you narrow your eyes, "talk to me would ya? i'm the only patron left." he jabs a carefree thumb behind him, and you look at all the almost empty tables, a few men here and there but that's it.
"you should.. probably head back. it's late," you say, sighing because he wouldn't go away.
"sure," he sips the remaining liquid, "join me?" his teeth are now on display, sharp whites grinning as he looks at you with a calculating stare.
you huff a scoff- ears turning warm at his suggestion. boothill took note of this, and chuckled.
"just pullin' your leg." with one last snort, he rises from his seat and pays his tab.
"keep the change." boothill salutes as he bids farewell.
you watch him walk away, probably to one of the guest rooms- and you look at the cash on the table, 50 credits and an extra 100 as tip.
under all that money, something caught your eye- a small note in between that says 'stay for the night' with the room number written in messy handwriting.
you might wanna take him up on that offer.
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