Aeon's smirk stayed, and even flashed into a smile. "Got no use for lipgloss," she said. "Less use for caring about what I wear or what people think of me." She shrugged.
"Anita With a Badge," Aeon said. "What kind of badge are we talking? You're too normal to be a cop."
The clerk snorted a laugh, and set a box of bullets down on the counter, turning his back again to look for further options.
Aeon wasn't entirely done sizing Anita up, though her gut didn't kick at her the way it had with Hannibal. A little tension seeped out of her at the thought.
The clerk shook his head. "I hate to tell you this, lady, but I got nothin' gonna fit that," he said, carefully bringing his eyes up to Aeon's. She arched an eyebrow.
"I had a feeling you were going to say that," she said. She holsted the Colt, sighing. Did Dean fucking make the bullets for that himself, or something?