You stood behind your stall at the NRA convention, in your camo top and leather boots. You sighed as you looked around— the attendees were far from the crowd you usually associated with, but your interest in the craft kept you in the NRA.

You were quite spooked when you turned your attention back and saw a tall, but meek looking, mousy man crowding over your display table.

“Is that an AR-10? A-armalite?” He squeaked, his lips curled into a polite smile.