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Donald grinned with lowered eyebrows as Whitney offered him the blunt, he had succeeded in making a good first impression, not that there was ever any doubt in his mind. He took a puff and leaned back as he blew. He hadn't given her his real name, he wasn't sure if he could trust any of them yet, he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of giving a load of hardened criminals his information. Though, he thought to himself as he looked around, he could take most of them. Not in a flat out fight of course, but he had enough types of bomb to make a fight turn into a "fight".

The weed was good, not the best he'd ever had but good, course it was pretty mild compared to some of the more extreme shit he'd partaken in back in Mexico. Some of the stuff that you could only take once or risk losing a limb or some shit like that. He'd not been the smartest back in those days for sure, but he was born in South America, best you could do was try to get famous and end up somewhere else. Not only South America, but Guyana, where the Wikipedia page for interesting people was around a quarter of a page long. Hell, even the place names in Guyana sucked, Georgetown? Because there aren't fifty cities called the exact same fucking thing. New Amsterdam? Way to rip off one of the biggest cities in the western hemisphere. Perhaps he was just a little bitter, maybe he wanted something better than what he had.

He was snapped out of this by the mention of thermite. He growled in recognition, dropping the blunt and letting out a small chuckle as he dropped his backpack and pulled it open. He hummed as he rummaged through the multitude of explosives held within, careful not to disturb the largest one that took up at least half the bag, probably more. Pulling out a small bag and a bit of string, he held them both over his head.

"I've got thermite, it'll take longer to burn through but it'll be much less likely to damage any merchandise. Unless you'd rather have it right away no matter the damage, in which case..." he place the objects gently on the ground, he didn't want it going off prematurely... ha, and rummaged for another moment, pulling out a chunk of C4. "This'll do just nicely... I love this shit, it's like play-doh, if play-doh was a high-grade explosive."

It was a haphazard construction, wires sticking out every-which way, a hand-written label in permanent marker that read "Explos ve" as the i had somehow been rubbed off. He was much less careful with this one, tossing it against the ground with a smack. He held up a finger before anyone could complain.

"C4 don't explode from being dropped, you need exteme heat and a shockwave, hell, we could play catch with this shit and nothing would happen," he looked around at the others with a smirk. "Unless you're scared. Don't worry ladies, I'm open for all your cuddling needs," he finished, giving a quick dance of his eyebrows.

To prove his point, he took out his pistol and waved it about.

"I could shoot it right now and nothing would happen. Seriously," he finished his raving. It had been far too many times that some chollo had seen him toss the C4 around and react by diving in the closest trash-can, so he was careful to explain every part to ensure no-one had a mini freak-out. Putting the gun away, he began squishing and playing with a little bit of the C4 in his hands. Tearing off another piece and offering it around the room to anyone who was wanting something to fidget with.