Boothill let out a grunt, but turned around to head back as he debated how to answer the question. "Ain't that interestin'. Big ol' corporation bombin' the fudge outta everythin' just to make some extra money. They didn't give a flyin' fork who they hurt. So... revenge. Gotta kill the muddle-fudger that made the call."

It was such an old story that the pain hardly hurt at all anymore. It was a constant, ever-present thing. "Then ended up here, just like you I imagine."

He looked the man up and down. He knew better than to comment on the way someone looked--but he'd be lying if he pretended the man he walked alongside didn't look a bit strange. "And what about you, then?"