"No idea," Wynonna admits, sheepishly shrugging. "We know the metal's something a little more than the average Colt, and the only other sample of it, we had to use to kill some spider-bitch sister-wives. Yeah, I don't know the hows or why of that either," she continues, entirely aware of how strange it all sounds.

But then, they're sitting in an Edwardian era inn on another planet, so.

"I don't have any more booze, but maybe if we both look new and pathetic enough, someone else will share."