Rocket launcher

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 tool for the right job,” she answered.


Skin Game Chapter 13, Page 93