Actually, Aeon had been making an observation. But if there were silver rounds that fit the Colt, she was takin' them.
Reminds me why I'm glad to be a girl.
Aeon's eyes shone and a smirk that, since being here, only Dean had seen started working across her mouth.
Her eyes slid to the Colt, which had replaced one of Aeon's normal guns in the holster on her back. It was in plain sight, but seriously, anyone who tried to give her a hard time about that was going to end up riddled with bullets, cop or not. This was the place that whatever gun she drew into her left hand rested. Since meeting the demons she'd met hanging out with Dean, carrying it on her back right now, since she was looking for things to fit it, seemed smart. Dean could have a fit later that she'd left the apartment with it.
Those demons weren't going to shoot themselves in the head.
"Not exactly mine," Aeon said. "It's sort of on loan. Mine are more stream-lined, too."
The gun that rode her thigh testified to that. There were few things she liked anymore about being (or having been) a Monican. The weapons and toys were still on the list.
A cop or one of the bad guys. Aeon arched an eyebrow. "There are a hell of a lot more categories than just those," she said. "I guess you could say I'm freelance, and my job has..." Aeon thought of River, and then of Hannibal. "Changed." She tilted her head at the rest. This woman was so confident. Confident that she could hurt Aeon.
Ah. Ha ha. Not likely. "You'd never catch me," she said, winking.
There was something in Aeon's eyes that said she was not nice and never, ever would be. She would have gotten along very well with Anita's friend, Edward. "You have a badge?" she asked, eyebrow remaining up. "From the City, or somewhere else?"