Boothill slides his gun into its holster and tips his hat. "Name's Boothill. What do you call yourself? Been here long? I ain't seen you around the ship before." It's a fairly big space and there aren't many occupants, but it would still be surprising if he met someone he'd never seen before and they'd been here longer than a day.

"Not like I came down here on accident." Boothill is bored of the ship. He's used to being foot-loose and fancy free, roaming the galaxy in his own ship and running evildoers to ground. Here, there's not even any prominent evildoers, let alone much room to properly roam. The plant animals that have been forming lately are dangerous enough to hunt, and Boothill lives for the Hunt. "It's like a shootin' gallery down here, except with actual challenges. Most fun I've had in days." He follows Flamebringer, though - a new friend is marginally more interesting than a few beasts he can come back for later.