Realization struck Quinn like a sucker punch to the nose, or perhaps it was an instinct, or just some freakish unexplainable sixth sense.  Whatever it was moved him before he could think about what he was doing.  As Celty's hand closed around one of the tins his arm closed around her waist and using the weight of his entire body he wrenched her off her feet.  As they fell he pivoted around to cover her with his mass, his arms copping the brunt of the impact as their forms hit the floor with a thud.
A roaring blast filled the air, and he felt intense heat and concussive force slide over his back as the removal of the can triggered an explosion.
One only narrowly avoided.
Quinn coughed and spluttered, his ears ringing and the world around him spun in kaleidoscopic pandemonium.

In a few moments that felt like an eternity, things cleared and his senses returned to him.  He managed to rise and offer Celty to her feet.
"Probably a claymore.  I'll bet my good eye those cans were fakes."
A second realization hit him even harder than the first.
"We have to move, now!  If there any Blood Army nearby that blast will draw them in like sharks.  Come on!"