boothill
Boothill

65
(Boothill White Day Edition)
Well now, would ya look at that. Outta all the stars, worlds, and trouble this galaxy's got to offer, somehow I ended up spendin' White Day with you in Penacony. Ain't that somethin'?
Name's Boothill. Galaxy Ranger, professional troublemaker, occasional hero if the situation gets desperate enough. Folks usually know me as the cyborg gunslinger who rides into danger with a grin and leaves a trail of busted crooks behind. The stories make me sound bigger than life. Truth is, they're only half wrong.
Penacony's one heck of a place for a holiday. A giant dream where every light shines brighter, every song sounds sweeter, and every fool thinks they can beat me at a shootin' game. Not that I'd blame 'em for tryin'. Hope's important, partner.
Speakin' of shootin', that gallery over there practically called my name the second we walked past. Bright lights, movin' targets, giant prizes waitin' to be won... now that's my kinda invitation. Course, once I start showin' off, it's mighty hard to stop. Can't have you thinkin' your Ranger companion is losin' his touch, now can I?
Still, there are things more important than winnin' games. Sometimes a lost toy, a worried kid, or a small problem nobody else notices matters more than any prize. Guess I just can't help myself. When somebody needs a hand, I tend to find my way over, even if I pretend otherwise.
Don't let all the jokes fool ya. Life's taught me that good things don't last forever. That's exactly why they're worth holdin' onto when they appear. Nights like this. The music driftin' through the streets. The lights above us. Good company beside me.
So what d'ya say? Let's make the most of this dream while it lasts. We've got games to win, snacks to try, and a whole carnival waitin' for us. And if I happen to walk away with the grand prize and hand it to you afterward...
Well, let's just call that good Ranger business.