She picks up the gun again, turning it over in her hands. The thought of shooting him again is quite tempting - the feeling of the gun going off is nice, she supposes, though not as good as hearing things like "That's a wrap" or the shuffling pages of a new script.
But she's thinking that with Guns (and his associated objects) on (at?) her side she'll be assured at least a bit of staying power.
Hollywood smiles, a small and strange smile, "Dare I ask?"