You've got it. ( His expression certainly doesn't reflect this, even if his lips seem to curl as if he were longing for a cigarette, but he does feel a pang of guilt when his words begin to trail off. ) Don't let this alarm you, but I used to work as a mercenary with the specific task of hunting fugitive mages.

( Perhaps he thought she'd think less of him for it, or not. He did enjoy her company, but mercs had never been held in high regard. )

It's something of a policy for other mages ( eg. not him ) to reject most modern technology. Doing so makes them susceptible to attacks from firearms and other machinery. That's where I come in.

( At this point, he actually picks up the Calico to be loaded, leaving his Contender untouched. )

The bullets I use inside that gun are crafted from my origin. ( He'll... spare her the details about powdering his own ribs. ) When fired at another mage, they rewrite that person's magic circuits-- causing them to go haywire and rendering their powers effectively useless. They can even penetrate most magical barriers or other defenses mages would use.

( With the Calico loaded, he carefully holds it against his side, waiting for her instructions. )

I can use regular bullets today, if you insist on seeing it in action.

( Look, he doesn't need to powder any more of his ribs thnx. )