He needs no further encouragement.

There are pro sports athletes who throw like Garrus in the heat of the moment. He just winds up, hucks it. Overhand. Up toward the rooftops. It flies about as well as a lead brick, but it still flies well out of any danger range for the turian. The whole thing goes up in a bright spark of metallic flame - like a magnesium flare.

And then hits the ground with a klunk.

Sputtering out and dying.

"We really can't go one mission without an explosion. Can we?"