In which Jed goes to his happy place:
Jed’s voice had turned cheerful, leaving Redford little time to reflect on his newfound question as Jed tugged him from the car. There was a bright banner in the distance, proclaiming the event to be “The Annual State Gun Show”, with hundreds of people milling about.
Thankfully, Jed didn’t seem to notice his sudden anxiety. They weaved their way through the car park, approaching the huge open area of the gun show. Stalls and brightly colored tents dotted the area, people milling around them, different music blaring on various different speakers and clashing with one other, voices on megaphones adding to the chaos of noise. There was gun oil and beer, cooking meat, exhaust fumes, perfume, old leather, melting steel—
“Isn’t this great?” Jed turned to him, a grin splitting his face, and Redford made himself smile back. “Some of my contacts I only see here, once a year. Some of them could know something.”
Redford took a moment to wonder why Jed always spoke about contacts but never about friends. If he considered that he had friends, maybe he just labeled them as contacts. Or maybe he just never let himself get that close. “It’s….” He struggled to find something good to say. “Loud,” Redford ended up with.
Apparently Jed liked that. “I know,” he enthused, grabbing Redford’s hand and tugging him into the crowd.