At the speed of sound
The guy in the camo hat has impressively moved from hunting turkey on a ranch on which he has private access, to elk hunting, without providing the guy with the other camo hat enough time to participate in the discussion. The guy spoke like Joyce or Faulkner wrote, but without being Joyce or Faulkner.
His volume is up either because he is so excited, or he wants everyone to know that the 6 x 6 elk he got last year was not bad. But there’s an undertone. “Not bad” means “not bad” to someone of his stature. A lesser hunter would be thrilled. I can’t see him, but I can imagine the smirk. I’ve seen the smirk. I’ve done the smirk.
It’s the smirk and tone of a successful hunter in the throes of the dopamine high of storytelling.
He pauses for 17 seconds. The quiet is too much. He’s got to fill the air.
