A gun is a potent weapon.
Imagine walking into a luxuriant office: thick, softly upholstered lounge chairs; a vast sea of hardbound books, well-read and musty with age; and a large, heavy, dark wood desk, replete with a jar of thick Indian ink, a delicate nib-pin, and yellow writing pad.
And centered upon that writing pad, contrasting highly against the bright yellow sheets and thin blue lines, a gun lies.
No one walks into a room where a gun is openly visible and does not have concern ripple through their body. No one.
So why would a speaker present an audience with a gun, yet never use it?
The gun never need be fired. It never need kill. But if the gun is mentioned, if it is seen, it must have had a purpose to the narrative. For the owner of the gun on the desk — there was a reason it lay upon the yellow writing pad.