The banquet hall smelled of sweat, BBQ, and Hoppes. Lon was shuffling back and forth between there and the kitchen, ensuring each member had food and drink next to their cleaning rods and patches.
NGIB rodded his PPK. "That was great! Damn glad we came down here."
Dillinger nodded, Egyptian cotton rag removing debris from the Nighthawk.
"That was great! Beautiful day, and excellent meal, Lon!"
Lon smiled, "Just glad you all could come."
Tango ran a mop through his 12 gauge. "It was great, except for "You know who", man, that guy's a douche. I'm so disappointed."
The table nodded as one. The guy many had hoped to meet face to face had turned out to be a real tool. Benning stumbled into the room, a large Chivas in one hand, and a larger Chivas in the other. "SUP, BEEYATCHES!!"
CA357 was running a brush through a Charter Arms 357, "Why don't you slow down, Benny?"
"Why don't you kissh my arshhhhe, CA?"
Robo stood up from his plate and his piece, "I think, sir, you should...."
"I think you should sit yourshelf down, Mr. Popo-man."
The storm that blew in held off till they were done at the range, but waited no more. The power went out.
When it came back on seconds later, Benny lay on the floor, dead.