[ Len might agree with the assessment if he could see Danse's ass, but he'll just assume he's telling the truth. The man doesn't exactly strike him as a prolific or talented liar. Talking shop, however, is something Len enjoys even with somebody he can't exactly agree with in other respects. Ironically, the last bastion of civility is discussing firearms. ]

Surefire.

[ He swings his shoulder in a little, deftly turning the rifle into his waiting hands. Len is pointedly careful and confident with her, the way any man whose job is violence is with the tools of their trade. Sure enough, Surefire is engraved into the barrel that he flashes at Danse. He does the man the genteel service of offering the gun to him, expression expectant. ]

Custom build. Manufactured the scope myself, she can reach two miles on a breezy day, with the drop. Two-point-five to three if the air's clear and I'm feeling particularly patient.