Brian struts in, his police-issued 9mm Glock strapped to his side, and me, shifty-eyed and agitated, in tow. The front room of the shop is filled with pistols and rifles and all sorts of things that I would never, EVER touch, let alone buy, but examining the various pieces through the glass counters are several strictly engrossed patrons, all male, seemingly over 50, with medium-length mustaches.
