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Summary
Boothill would always insist on staying in the Data Bank with Dan Heng, either prying on his documents in search of intel, or simply making Dan Heng company in that small room of his. He had once faintly said the smell felt familiar, sitting on a spinning chair, idly spinning around with one foot, his hat resting on his face, yet, that keen eye of his watched intently as Dan Heng worked on sorting out his most recent data. He pretended not to notice the ranger staring, yet something felt like it was bothering him.
Boothill certainly didn't bother Dan Heng, but something about him made him feel… strange, in a way, like a lingering tension he could not exactly pinpoint what it was.
His manner of speaking always caught Dan Heng off guard. ‘Partner’, ‘pretty face’, ‘darlin’ or ‘sugar’, they always left a weird sensation, like butterflies in his belly.