America just arches an eyebrow. Flattery? How... un-Dreddlike. "I imagine you would have, one way or the other." So she wasn't the most popular Judge around. A little too liberal, they'd say. They'd adjust. So would Dredd.

Every time she starts to get a little suspicious, she has to remind herself that she got to know him after fifty years on the streets. No one would be the same after that length of time. Everyone started somewhere.

She snorts at the display and holds her arm out, aiming at the huge target that is the Earth. Not by pollution and war, but hardly untouched. "It' cute. Curvy lines. Silver finish." She pauses, tilting the barrel up a tetch and giving it a quizzical look. "...Rather more phallic than I remember." Long barrel, bulbous tip, what were they thinking? Then again, with the 'Drokk the citizens' attitude some Judges tended to hold, it was probably on purpose.

America slides her hand over the ammo selector, almost humming as she did so. It was like holding an antique. She hasn't touched one of these since she was a little girl, but she still remembers drilling on the cadet version for hours before it was announced that they'd be upgrading.