Quinn trained his eyes on his shoe as she spoke. He picked at the edge of his sole, and his brow furrowed. So... he was supposed to sit around and do nothing? While he could just up and get killed at any moment for no reason other than his parentage? No, that was... unacceptable. The more Quinn thought about it, the more he knew it was unacceptable. He could see it in his head—one of the Hoods just decides, hey, this one looked at me wrong, he doesn't deserve to live. And bam. Just like that, his life is over. As if it's nothing.

That would not be happening to him. If he was gonna get killed, he wouldn't go down without a fight—he needed to at least prepare. He needed to learn something. There was no way he would sit around idly on his hands when he could be making strides to make sure that, when it came down to it, he would have a fighting chance.

He thought all the younger years deserved one.

Quinn stood up, apparently losing interest in his shoe. "Thanks, Aboli. You've been a real help," he said neutrally, picking up his books.