I already gave Jared my SCAR-H long ago, but my own abandonment issues made me jump up defensively. It was triggered by him trying to buy it off of me with the gold coin he just won, and I just don't want to make it official-official.
To be fair, there are other ways I could obtain a gold coin, and exchanging it for something I deem much more valuable would just prompt a reaction.
Jared put his hands up, "C'mon, bro! I thought you already gave this thing to me! Just lemme give you something for it!"
"Fine, fine... but before we forgot, don't mix the ammo you won with ours."
Quinn interjected, "Why's that? They're all the same, right?"
I scratched my head before I looked at everybody, "It's u-umm, different."
"Different?"
"I'm sure they work but I don't want to risk it."
Quinn just squinted her eyes as she just stared at me while folding her arms together, "You're hiding something, aren't you? Is your ammo a little special? I already told you that 'I know', right? You can tell me."
I chuckled, "On the contrary, what's special about it is that there's nothing special about it."
'Except for the higher-caliber loads... If you want to hit where you want it or sub-sub-MOA, it should be a custom load...'
Quinn never looked so confused, "Are you messing with me now? I'll grab your balls and crush them if you are."
I quipped, "Is that an invitation?"
"You!" Quinn suddenly lunged forward.
I jumped back before she managed to grab hold of me, "Easy now. I'll tell you but you gotta tell me one of your secrets."
"Secrets? Is it that important?"
"Kinda. And yeah, the secret you gotta tell me should be something special that your group could do aside from building engines and pimping out anything that moves. If you can tell me something like a~ you know, a trade secret of your group, I'd tell you something about mine and possibly share it."
Quinn and I just stared at each other while everyone else was just watching us, but after a few moments, she eventually sighed before opening her mouth.
"Trade secrets, huh? Is being able to engineer our own engines not enough? I'm pretty sure it's more complicated than manufacturing your own bullets. However special your bullets are, it's still limited to how it is utilized by the shooter. If your shooter is shit, your 'special' bullet is wasted."
I threw Quinn an approving look, "You're right but I already told you, what's special about my bullets is that they're not special. Yeah, I made them myself– with the help of some people, but that doesn't necessarily mean you'll get headshots 100% of the time."
"Then what's special about them?"
"I already told you–"
Quinn never looked so annoyed, "Then what makes them not special?!"
"Now, you're asking the right questions. Good job!"
"You fucker... I'm this close to shoving my fist up your ass. Just answer me!"
"So, you mean to say you just refit them with the–"
"Don't misunderstand, we do just refit them but we still have to machine the parts they sent to us. They always send us extra and we are free to use them however we wish as long as we get the job done."
"Hmm, something doesn't sound right."
Quinn instantly scrunched her brows, showing displeasure, "What? Are you telling me that I'm lying to you?!"
"Not exactly."
"Then what are you saying?"
"Your DB9."
Quinn instantly shook her head, "That's true. Why does someone who armor vehicles for a living have a DB9 that's not armored?"
"Exactly."
"Those are still the original parts before your friend wrecked them–"
"You also did."
"Irrelevant. It's already wrecked so my doing doesn't matter."
"Sure..."
"As I was saying, yes, those are still the original parts and I don't want to just throw them away but the windows are already bulletproof with the gas tank and the battery armored. I'm just looking for the right time to replace them but– remember Jackie?"
I nodded, "Yeah, Number 2. The guy you shot for killing Number 1."
"Yeah, that guy. He's a fucking asshole but he's kinda like you in a way. He was the one supposed to machine the parts to replace the hood and the other parts of my DB9 since he's the best out of everyone in my crew, but he gotta go. It's a damn shame but I guess you could do much better... much, much better."
I faintly smiled, "Hmm, I get it now. Armored stuff, huh?"
"Yeah. Interested now?"
"One more thing."
"What now?"
"Can it take a .50?"
"Wut?"
"Did I stutter? It's armored, right? Can it take a shot from a .50?"
Quinn never looked so confused from my question but it just so happened that Ibarra tripped over an ammo can and spilled several shotgun shells right as I asked my question. The gunshots that followed almost perfected the intro, but Quinn was looking at everyone's expression, thinking that I was cracking another joke.
However, I just pulled my Barrett out of its case to show Quinn that I was actually serious.