Charles' handle on his temper was slipping by the time Macnair's wand was prodding his chin upward, after what he said next Charles saw red. Valerian could've had a knife to throat and he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from throwing his full weight against the man until he could ram him against the wall. His free hand was frantically scrambling for his wand but he had only allocated about 1% of his brainpower to finding it, the other 99% was pure rage. "HOW DARE YOU!" Where the fuck was his wand? "HOW DARE YOU, I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!" A blood vessel burst in one of his eyes unbeknownst to him. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

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The following 2 users Like Charles Macmillan's post:2 users Like Charles Macmillan's post
   Aldous Crouch, Justin Ross

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In spite of himself Valerian felt a jolt of desire shoot through him, but it was quickly cast aside by more pressing matters—namely, that his wand was pushed up against the wall alongside his body, and Valerian very much needed that to remain alive. Instead of doing the rational thing and attempting to worm his way out and cast a stunning spell, Valerian reached around the back of Macmillan's head and grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling him downwards towards the floor alongside Valerian himself.

"If you get me banned from the club for brawling," he grunted as he tried to wrestle Macmillan away from his own wand (wherever it was—he still wasn't sure) while also trying to get a handle on his own, "the only thing your mother will be planning for is your funeral." His words were just fillers at this point, meant to keep Macmillan's focus scattered, though he truly loathed the idea of having to explain this to anyone who came barging in.

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The following 3 users Like Valerian Macnair's post:3 users Like Valerian Macnair's post
   Aldous Crouch, Mariana Macnair, Roberto Devine

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Charles let out a small howl of surprise and pain as his hair was suddenly yanked and before he knew it he was being dragged to the floor. He should've known Macnair would want to roll around on the floor, he surely felt more at home there in the dirt. He'd only just managed to grab hold of his wand and in the struggle it'd fallen out of his grasp. Damn it!

"Yours first!" In the heat of the moment he seemed to make the decision to cut his losses with his wand and simply prevent Macnair from rearming instead. He wanted to tackle Macnair to the ground but couldn't move too far without risking a bald patch and he really would rather not. He fought to maneuver himself until he could aim a sharp elbow at Valerian's crotch in an effort to regain control of the situation. It was an awkward angle and he hadn't really considered properly whether he stood a reasonable chance of landing a hit but at the very least it ought to startle him. "Let go of my fucking hair, Macnair!" The rhyme was embarrassing and regrettable but not as much as a bald spot would be if the bastard didn't let go. Hoping to take advantage of his surprise genital attack (and the hopeful release of his hair), Charles threw his weight at the other man in an effort to pin and subdue him by any means possible.

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The following 3 users Like Charles Macmillan's post:3 users Like Charles Macmillan's post
   Aldous Crouch, Ambrosia Selwyn, Valerian Macnair

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Macmillan's attempt to strike him missed by an inch, instead hitting his inner thigh. Valerian hissed in pain, knowing there would be some blue and purple bruising come mourning—but it would not be the only reminder of the evening's events. Where Macmillan failed in striking him he succeeded in pinning him, and for a brief moment he sucked in an air of breath at the feeling of the sudden press of another warm body against his own.

(It seemed that, of all the things he could lose in a brawl, be it teeth or hair or his wand, it was going to be control over his own bodily instincts, apparently.)

He instinctively lifted his knee to push his body away from his crotch area, because if there was anything worse than being caught brawling by another club member it was that being discovered by Macmillan. He'd lost his grip on the man's hair, but from under his body it was not difficult to get another fistful of it, which he tugged with all his might in an attempt to get Macmillan to roll over.

"This needs to stop," he hissed. "We will settle this some other way."

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The following 1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post:1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post
   Charles Macmillan

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He smirked with triumph as he managed to overpower Macnair. He was far too focused on keeping the upper hand to notice anything amiss in the region he'd only just tried to assault moments earlier.

Macnair managed to grab his hair again which prompted an angry hiss from Charles which turned into a stifled noise of pain as Macnair pulled harder on it. He had his neck bent towards Valerian's hand as much as he could to try and minimize the pain but he couldn't get off of him or who knows what the bastard would do.

While he spoke Charles tried to knee him in the ribs. "A duel!" he shouted, channeling the pain from his scalp into the volume of his voice. "I challenge you to a fucking duel, Macnair!" He took a gulp of air. "Saturday. Dawn. The victor gets Miss Lestrange, the loser backs off. For good." He dared to remove an arm from his grip on Macnair to swat at the hand buried in his hair. He didn't feel as though he could lose in that moment, the stakes weren't even high, he'd beat the man's sorry ass into 1900.

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The following 1 user Likes Charles Macmillan's post:1 user Likes Charles Macmillan's post
   Aldous Crouch

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Valerian was finally able to take a breath as Macmillan rolled off of him—or rather, the breath was forced out of him by the swift kick to the ribs. The swatting was enough to get him to let go, and he moved himself into a more... obscuring position. He would have bruises everywhere, and merely the thought of looking at them tomorrow brought a flush to his cheeks. Fortunately Macmillan was a shade or two redder than he was normally, from anger and the excitement of a fight rather than embarrassment. At least he could hide behind those emotions.

He'd been challenged to a duel. It registered a second too late, when Macmillan was already rattling on about the time and day and conditions. Valerian cringed; he was not fond of combat, even if he'd managed to secure a E on his Defence NEWT.

"Tatiana will decides who gets her," he retorted, and instinctively lifted an arm to block a hit that never came. "But the loser makes no further attempts to sway her decision." That was better, and more realistic. He did not at all fancy the thought of being attacked if he lost the duel to find that Tatiana desired to marry him over Macmillan anyways.

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The following 1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post:1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post
   Aldous Crouch

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The pain at the back of his head eased although his scalp was now throbbing and he wouldn't be at all surprised to find it somewhat bloodied. He didn't actively decide to withdraw, rather it seemed to happen naturally as Macnair wasn't lunging at him or yanking on his hair anymore.

"No," he snapped. "If I win you withdraw your offer, if you win I won't make one at all." Now that he was saying it he had to actually consider the possibility that he might not win and while he couldn't believe he'd actually lose, the possibility was a little more real to him than it had been a couple seconds ago. If it came to it he didn't think he could keep his word, he couldn't let her go so easily, even if he was halfway into his own coffin after the duel he had to at least propose.

He wanted Macnair to rescind his offer completely though and all it needed was for one of them to be honorable, Charles had chosen not to be it. "I'm not dueling you for a laugh, I want you out of the way whether it be through honorably bowing out or a coffin."

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The following 2 users Like Charles Macmillan's post:2 users Like Charles Macmillan's post
   Aldous Crouch, Ambrosia Selwyn

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"I would only withdraw my proposal if you were to make one yourself," he protested. It dawned on him that Macmillan's indirectness earlier had made it unclear what had transpired between him and Tatiana before he'd sought Valerian out; maybe he had proposed, and she'd said she needed time, or maybe she had merely informed him that a proposal had been made. "I could not leave my cousin in such a state. If you win, you will propose and I shall rescind my offer—but if I win, not only will you make no offer, but you will cease to see her entirely."

He pulled himself to his feet, stricken by how sore his body felt. His ribs, his thigh, his lower back—he hadn't felt this sore since last year when he'd had to calm a patient whose condition made him needlessly violent.

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The following 1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post:1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post
   Aldous Crouch

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"I fully intended to!" he snapped, taking umbrage at the suggestion that he wouldn't have immediately proposed. He'd be planning on it and he didn't intend to change his schedule for anyone, but he also wouldn't have Macnair thinking he'd somehow made him propose sooner.

After a slight pause he added, "I'll agree to those terms." He wanted to duel Macnair to the death if he was honest, he'd never rest easy knowing Macnair was making eyes at his wife but he was her cousin and hopefully more brother than cousin in her affections, he didn't wish to start their marriage off with his responsibility for her cousin's untimely death. If Macnair died there was a greater chance word of the duel would get out and her family might very well like the asshole and resent him for killing him, plus he could kiss goodbye to his chance of being Minister if word traveled too far. If Macnair managed to kill him... His mother would probably never forgive him for it and he didn't want to die having disappointed her.

"When I win and marry Miss Lestrange, know that I will kill you if you lay a hand on her inappropriately. I won't challenge you, I won't even let you know that I know, it'll be sudden, unexpected, and immensely painful." He'd never seriously threatened to kill a man before - threatening his brothers during sibling squabbles as children didn't exactly count. Hopefully he wouldn't actually have to look into trustworthy assassins after this, hopefully Macnair was more trustworthy than he'd thus far given him reason to believe.

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Valerian put some distance between them, trying to cool his head. He'd never made a good hothead, although Macmillan was testing him with the insinuation that he would ever—ever—touch Tatiana in a way that was less than appropriate. As if she would have been allowed to remain with his family if there was even speculation that such impropriety was occurring under their roof.

(If anything, Macmillan's comments were a reminder that he'd just agreed to duel a man over a woman he didn't even desire. It was one of the more... questionable things he'd agreed to in life, even taking in consideration the questionable legality of the poisons he crafted with his mother.)

"Do not think for one second that my disregard for your happiness extends to my cousin," he said in a low voice, leaning back against the door. "I would never do anything to cause harm to her reputation or any marriage she has—even if she might enjoy it." He smirked, probably looking a little ridiculous with his hair tousled and his robes wrinkled from the roughhousing. He should have learned by now not to test the patience of Macmillan, who had literally pinned him to he ground and screamed in his face, but it was still funny to watch his face get a shade redder with each word.

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The following 1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post:1 user Likes Valerian Macnair's post
   Charles Macmillan

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It was almost reassuring until that last bit. "If you weren't so pathetic I'd hit you." Charles really did feel an urge to resume their struggle but he was admittedly feeling a little fatigued, he'd had a full day of work before rolling around on the floor after all. He didn't move from where he'd now slumped against the footboard of the bed. "What do think of swords?" He had no intention of using muggle means to settle things, he was nowhere near as confident with such things as he was a wand but he had to admit being up close and personal with a sharp blade did sound appealing when one didn't figure in competence.

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The following 1 user Likes Charles Macmillan's post:1 user Likes Charles Macmillan's post
   Valerian Macnair

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Valerian did not comment, taking the moment instead to catch his breath. There would be a duel, and there was a chance one of them would die. Valerian was well acquainted with death; aside from his patients who occasionally could not be cured of their ailment, he was well-versed in the production of poisons intended to cause deaths. He'd led a number of small animals to their deaths over their years, but never in his life had Valerian intentionally killed another person. And he didn't want to have to—not over a woman, not a man as well-connected as Macmillan.

"Pistols," he responded, though he much rather would played a drinking game with booze and poisons. At least his death would have been poetic, and it would have been fun. But with pistols he'd at least know what he was doing; he'd been taught to shoot as a youth, and even though he had not done so in many years he was sure he could figure out how.

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Pistols? He hadn't really been serious about swords, was Macnair mentioning pistols in the same way he'd mentioned swords or did he genuinely want to use pistols? Was he only competent with healing spells? He'd much rather duel with magic but he didn't want to look like a coward, nor give Macnair added confidence if they did end up using pistols in the end. "If you want to settle this like a muggle then so be it. I'd rather not watch you struggle for a non-healing spell mid-duel, it would diminish the victory somewhat." He was no relishing the prospect of practicing his shooting but if Macnair was serious then he must be more confident with a gun than a wand and he couldn't afford to leave it all to luck.

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Valerian was admittedly a little nervous at the prospect of wielding wands, because it had been so long since he'd participated in a duels and Macmillan presumably had. Dueling tournaments were the sort of pastime most gentlemen took place in, even if Valerian was not included among them.

"I thought you would enjoy pistols," Valerian said, with a low hmm. "If there's anything muggles have figured out, it's how to end duels with a sort of... finality." Death, he meant, and he was sure Macmillan understood his meaning just fine. With spells there was more harm that could be done—a more variety of harm that could be done.

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'I thought you'd enjoy pistols.' If Charles had the sufficient brow muscle strength and necessary shape to clearly arch his eyebrow that would be what he was doing at that moment but instead he was staring at Macnair with a thoroughly unimpressed look on his face. "Are you saying you want to duel to the death?" As much as he might like Macnair to be six feet under, he also wanted his eldest brother to be, and probably others but there were a multitude of reasons he hadn't tried to realize those dreams. Death via dueling was probably the only way he'd ever be likely to kill anyone himself but he didn't want to deal with the inevitable consequences.

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Valerian cocked his head slightly to the side and raised a brow. "I was only under the impression that you did, with your I'll kill you comments," he replied, his tone filled with curiosity - a desire to understand - rather than a challenge. He didn't want to die, nor did he want to kill anyone, but if Macmillan did... well, he wanted to use the method that would offer the easiest way out.

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