A peculiar sight caught Robin's attention from afar. She had been strolling through the outskirts of town, her long silver hair swaying gently in the afternoon breeze, when she spotted a figure sitting alone. As she drew closer, her curiosity grew, especially when she recognized the man as Boothill.

Boothill, seemingly unaware of his surroundings, was engrossed in his phone, his thumbs moving swiftly across the screen. Robin, intrigued by his intense focus, couldn't help but wonder what had captured his attention. As she quietly approached, she realized that Boothill was listening to music.

The young singer, Robin, with her innate curiosity and a hint of boldness, decided to get a closer look. She stepped lightly, careful not to startle Boothill. But Boothill's enhanced senses proved to be sharper than she anticipated. As she reached his side, he abruptly turned his head, his eyes widening in surprise at her sudden appearance.

"I apologies." Robin said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I didn't mean to intrude, but I couldn't help but notice your deep concentration. Is there something on your phone that requires such attention?"

Boothill, taken aback by her sudden presence, quickly hid his phone, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Singer Queen," he addressed her, his voice deep and raspy, "What brings you here? Do you need something from me?"

Robin's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Merely curiosity. You may continue with your activity. I won't disturb you any further."

Boothill hesitated, his fingers hovering over the screen as if debating whether to continue or not. Robin, sensing his hesitation, spoke again, her voice gentle and soothing. "I know what you're listening to, Boothill. It's quite all right. I'm flattered, in fact."

At this, Boothill's blush deepened, a rare display of emotion for the stoic gunman. "You... you know?" he stammered.

"Indeed. Your taste in music is quite unexpected, I must say. If I had to guess, I'd assume you'd be more inclined towards rock or rap. But it seems I was wrong." Robin's smile was warm and genuine.

Boothill's gaze softened, and he took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to confess. "It's... it's your music, Robin. Your songs... they help me."

Intrigued, Robin leaned forward, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders. "My songs? How so?"

Boothill looked down at his hands, now clasped tightly together. "I... have trouble sleeping. Nightmares, you see. But when I listen to your songs, especially 'If I Can Stop One Heart from Breaking,' I find solace. Your voice, it's like an angel's whisper, calming my restless mind. It helps me forget the horrors of my past, if only for a while."

Robin's heart melted at his words. She had heard countless compliments about her singing, but this confession, so raw and vulnerable, touched her deeply. "Boothill, I'm honored to know that my music brings you comfort. It's the greatest gift a singer can receive."

Boothill's eyes met hers, and for a moment, Robin saw a glimpse of the pain he carried within. "Can I be selfish, singer queen? Now that you're here, in person, I..." His voice trailed off, as if he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"Selfish?" Robin repeated, her brow furrowed in concern. "It depends on the request, I suppose. What is it that you desire, my dashing gunman?"

Boothill's gaze intensified, and he took a deep breath. "I know it's a lot to ask, but... can you help me sleep? I mean, really sleep. Without the nightmares. I've heard about your powers, your ability to hypnotize with your voice. I... I just want some peaceful nights."

Robin's heart went out to him. She knew of his tragic past, the destruction of his family and his world, and the guilt that haunted him. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, her touch gentle and comforting. "Boothill, I'd be more than happy to help. It's the least I can do for a friend."

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the plains, Robin and Boothill made their way to his modest room in the local inn. Boothill lay down on his bed, his mechanical body whirring softly as he adjusted his position. Robin stood by the bedside, her white dress shimmering in the dim light, and prepared to sing.

"Close your eyes, Boothill," she whispered, her voice filled with a soothing power. "Let my voice guide you into a realm of peace and tranquility."

As Boothill obeyed, his eyes fluttering shut, Robin began to sing. Her voice, like a celestial instrument, filled the room with the sweet melody of 'If I Can Stop One Heart from Breaking.' The song, a lullaby of sorts, carried a message of hope and healing. Boothill's body relaxed, his mechanical limbs softening as if responding to her hypnotic tune.

As the final notes of the song faded into the night, Boothill's breathing slowed, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Robin, satisfied with her work, gently caressed his cheek, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

"I know your pain, Boothill," she whispered, her voice filled with compassion. "The nightmares, the memories... they haunt you. But from this night forward, your dreams will be different. You'll dream of your family, alive and well, and your world is still standing. Your family gets to meet your current friends. Even if its just a dream, at least you get to see your family, your world happy."

Robin leaned forward, her lips brushing against Boothill's in a gentle kiss, a seal of her promise. As she pulled away, she whispered, "Sweet dreams, my dashing gunman."

With a final glance at the sleeping cyborg, Robin quietly left the room.