The fact that where she comes from is so damn complicated is one of the reasons she doesn't talk about it much. Not being able to go home is one thing, but not fully understanding the 'this is a completely different universe' thing has its own set of issues. Amelia can't go home and wherever she came from, she's adapting quickly to Dean's world and way of life. Did it really matter past that so long as she slept enough that the daily nightmares didn't distract from their work?

"We'll leave those for a day when I feel like risking my fingers," she agrees easily. She's heard enough stories about singed eyebrows and missing digits that she's been shying away from the explosives so far. If they really need them, they can find someone else to help, right?

After setting aside the shotgun, Amelia looks over the assorted handguns on the table and settles on the most practical looking one - a standard issue police 9 mm. It's not as useful as the Colt Dean offers her every time they're on a job, but it's something she doesn't know and it seems best to learn how to use it in a safe space like this. Loading it is much easier than loading the shotgun and she soon turns to the target and squeezes the trigger a few times in rapid succession to test it out.

...only nothing happens, because she doesn't know that this kind of gun has a safety on it. "Dreams, what now? Did I break it just by loading it?"