Smokey cocks his head in contemplation, and says, "I still don't really get it. If you can capture a Grimm, doesn't that mean you've already learned how to kill it?
Why not just save yourself some extra effort and just shoot it? I guess maybe you could find an easier way to destroy it, if you looked hard enough. On another note though, I'll definitely take you up on that tattoo guy when I'm ready to have one done."
"As far as Good News goes, though, that's a bit of a long story. Short version is that my dad made it. It was a gift." Smokey lets out a small sigh. There's a sign of grim determination on his face, the look of someone facing a long, steep, uphill battle. It passes quickly, and he continues "As for why I carry so much firepower, it's because I can handle it. Physically, I mean. As far as I know, I'm the only person in Beacon, if not in all of Remnant, that can fire my guns without getting slapped in the face by the recoil. You've seen the shells for my other gun, right?" Smokey lifts open his coat to give a better look at his collection of ammo. Shotgun shells and dust fill the inside pockets. "Not exactly standard revolver ammunition. And if they tried to fire Matchstick in volley gun mode, if they didn't have aura, they'd dislocate their shoulder."