erik still doesn't know what the hell he's doing in boot hill exactly. each time he tries to conjure up a reason in his mind, he simply goes blank. despite the decrepit look of the dusty, old streets so different from the bright city lights and fast paced life style that now seems more like a distant memory, the town strangely feels as though it could one day be home. so it's no surprise that he makes his way straight towards the coyote's howl bar, eager for a drink (or several) that'd help get him numb. there's not a whole people inside and for erik, that's a good thing. less annoying locals to deal with. there is one person, though, someone sitting right next to the empty seat he's desperate to occupy. "this seat taken?" it's amazing how americanized he's become, german accent now disappearing entirely. he's about as american as the rest of the hicks around here anyways. he doesn't wait long for a response before sitting down, not caring. "is the liquor here any good or am i just wasting my time?" he adds, partially eager to start conversation and also because he's curious.
