‘The ATF, the governing, regulating body, whatever the fuck you want to call them, I call them assholes, make our fucking life hell, excuse me, it has to verify all purchases and that takes some time.’

‘Who are they?’

‘Alcohol, tobacco, firearms, and explosives, strange mixture of stuff, but they can all kill you. I guess. So, there you go.’

He laughed again.

‘You want something now, that you can walk out of here with, with the basic tests and verification, and you want 9 mm?’

Ever supposed this was a question and grunted.

‘Uh uh.’

It sounded knowledgeable and manly.

‘You can’t do better than a Glock 17. Police just went back to them. Packs a noise though. Cheaper, at around $550. You want to give her a go?’

This time the ear protectors were a necessity and it was with a sense of disappointment that he said,

‘I’ll take this one then.’

The only consolation was that Ever was relieved he had hit the target. Then came the inevitable ‘where you from originally?’ Ever was surprised the question had taken so long.

‘LA and then moved to England, for a while.’

Was his customary reply to all comers.

‘Don’t need to know what you want her for, but she’s nice isn’t she?’

Except the isn’t she came out as ‘inshe’, and he assumed the man with dead eyes was talking about the gun.

‘Yes, very nice.’

But Ever had nothing to compare it to, except a .177 air rifle he had attempted to kill a sparrow with when he was eleven years old. He hit the sparrow, but it didn’t die, so he had, in a panic, got a shovel and bashed it until it was dead. That was the unpleasant part, the bashing, not the firing.

So that was him and guns.

‘She’s great.’

He felt an idiot feminising the weapon.

‘I’ll take it.’

‘Magazine maximum is ten, State law. Want a box of twenty-five or fifty of the 9 mm babies?’

Now infantilising, but this was a question.

‘Just twenty-five is fine, thank you.’

He certainly defied convention by refusing to say ‘I will take her’. It just didn’t seem right. But he supposed if it is seen, as some perceive, as a penis extension, it could work. He then had to take the written FSC, and produce documents to prove in the thinnest context, his sanity and existence, and soon he would be walking out into the Van Nuys sunlight with a gun capable of killing.

But not quietly.

‘Get caught carrying in this state, it’s a felony. Well, put it like this, you’ll have a long and expensive old time trying to prove otherwise, if you’re with me. So don’t fuck around.’

A little strong, hold on there, cowboy, thought Ever.

‘Straight home, self-defence on property, unless you want to drive to Texas and have some fun.’