Sinclair turns around to look, expecting maybe a shotgun, maybe a revolver, perhaps even a machine gun, but.

...What even is that?

He looks at it for a couple seconds longer than what would probably be natural before he speaks.

"I...uh." Come on, Sinclair, this is a gift, don't be rude. "You shouldn't have, kid. I don't know what I'll even do with this much, uh. ...Fire power."