The shotgun was open and getting a cleaning by this time. There was gunk on it, just like everything else, but perhaps more so since he had knocked off a zombie head or two with the butt of it when quarters got way too close for comfort. He got a towel to get the worst of it off but saved anything more thorough for later, unlike the care he took with his own gun from home. The enforcers always seem to come later. Not too much later, but always later.

"We'd call them enforcers. They don't so much watch as loom as a not-so-invisible threat." There's a half smile on his face, a rueful shadow of his normal grin. "If there was travel between our worlds, the ideas of spirits and possession and demons might have had an influence on our own church. We had Templars, too. As for people being possessed, it's usually a hoax or just someone mentally unstable."