" There were guns on the coffee table. Like, a lot of them, broken out on cloths, being cleaned, leaned against a nearby chair, where a large equipment bag waited to receive them. Karrin's favorite little Belgian carbine was there, along with what looked like a couple of space guns. "New toys?" I asked. "I'm a girl, Harry," she said, rather smugly. "I accessorize." "Is that a bazooka?" "No," she said. "That is an AT4 rocket launcher. Way better than a bazooka." "In case we have to hunt dinosaurs?" I asked. "The right took for the right job," she answered. "Can I play with it? "