yknow we always only see boothill performing stunts/acting careless/being brash but what about a soft boothill. what about a boothill where he is afraid of the chaos he brings. what about a boothill in a playground holding a mother's baby after she had to take an important phone call, choosing the cowboy as the safest person who would be able to watch over her little kid. what about cold, hard metallic fingers wrapping around a tiny baby's wrist as the baby coos and reaches out for him, a scene oh so familiar to him. The cold metal shines in the golden afternoon light and the wires beneath his shell of a body can only think of danger, danger, danger, his system knowing just how easily he could crush the fragile bones of the child if he was too careless, too brutal, too rash
the child coos at him, and he can only pull his hand away, joints shaking and creaking, before he tugs the baby up into his chest, cold metal plates meeting soft skin, if only to make sure he can feel the baby's heart echo inside his hollow body with every beat. alive, unharmed, untainted by the violence that fuels boothill better than his own blood
