Here was his chance to avoid an intentionally fatal duel without looking like a coward, provided he chose his words carefully. "As much as I'd love a front row seat at your funeral my liberty, career, and social standing aren't worth sacrificing for the likes of you." Dueling at all was still a risk but it was easier to keep it secret if there wasn't a corpse to deal with. Macnair's suddenly got a funny limp was far less interesting than Macnair is missing or suddenly died under mysterious circumstances, people would look into it, if it wasn't masterfully covered up then law enforcement would inevitably stick their noses in and never mind the vengeful family members. Too many people would notice and too many people might piece the answer together. "As long as you're alive no one will care how many bullet holes you're riddled with or how they got there."

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Valerian considered the words, his eyes remained fixated on Macmillan's face though his stare had gone blank. He didn't really fancy dying, either, nor did he particularly want Macmillan dead, but there was still a chance that even a won duel would get Macmillan out of his life. The last thing he needed was the man being a purposeful thorn in his side because he'd stolen Tatiana right from under his nose.

But that could be solved in other, less obvious ways.

"So we shoot to injure," Valerian concluded with a curt nod. "First with a bullet hole loses the duel."

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Oh good, Macnair wasn't attached to the idea of to the death, but then again who would be? Then again if he thought he could get away with killing Macnair without his whole life going up in flames as a result he might. "Perhaps a set number of shots?" There was a point at which it would get ridiculous if they kept missing but it was unlikely they'd both be so appalling with their aim that it'd last for very long. The risk of capping it at a handful of shots was that no one would be hit which could happen and for many was enough to settle a quarrel but Charles needed more than that. Macnair needed to know that crossing him came with consequences so that he never tried anything of the like again. Charles didn't think Miss Lestrange would ever consider an affair but women were weak creatures, even the strongest of them, and Macnair clearly had no respect for social mores or other people's possessions.

The positive side of having a set number of shots was that it would hopefully put more pressure on Macnair and thus make him more likely to miss. The same could also be said for Charles who would probably the most invested in putting a hole in his opponent but it was easy to be cocky when he was sat on the floor of a rented room in Black's having just tussled with the man and (in his view) won, whilst also being absolutely nowhere near a pistol.

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It seemed absurd to be sitting here discussing their potential death as if they were planning for dinner the next night, but it had always been absurd for him - he didn't really want Tatiana, not to the same degree Macmillan wanted her, but he'd made this bed so he could lie in it - or in his grave, if it came to that. "And if neither of us lands a shot?" he asked, unimpressed. "No, I think it's best we shoot to first shot. That way the winner is clear."

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It seemed he'd underestimated Macnair's investment in the duel. A look of resentful surprise flashed across his features for the briefest millisecond. He didn't know why he felt offended, almost betrayed that Macnair actively wanted to put a bullet in him but it probably had something to do with assuming Macnair would be a coward and not want to duel at all. "Well it doesn't really matter either way. I have a steady hand and good aim, it won't take long."

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