Valerian had taken the day off of work, the events of the morning continuing to replay in his head.
He had nearly killed Charles Macmillan. It must have been a fluke—it was a fluke, as his bullet had hit Macmillan despite his aim being terribly off—yet it wasn't one of his own making, and he accepted the shot as a win. Macmillan had been less amenable to the call, but was in no position to demand they try again. He'd been bleeding from the side, and for that one split second, Valerian had wished to help him.
But he hadn't. His second had come to his side, demanded they leave, and then they were gone.
And now he was here, and so was Tatiana. Somehow he'd never assumed he would get so far. It was still Tatiana's decision as to whether she would marry him or not, but in the stipulations of their duel Macmillan had agreed to cease his pursuit of her if he'd lost. Valerian greeted Tatiana with a smile and placed his book pages-down on the arm of the table, his hands moving to his knees.
Just as quickly as the smile came, it disappeared.
"He—he what?" he asked, surprised, although not for any reason she would comprehend. Macmillan had just lost. He'd been shot, and honor dictated that he end his pursuit of her, and somehow in the past twelve hours he'd managed to propose?
(Valerian briefly wondered how he was well enough to do so, and almost—almost—felt a pang of concern.)
He had nearly killed Charles Macmillan. It must have been a fluke—it was a fluke, as his bullet had hit Macmillan despite his aim being terribly off—yet it wasn't one of his own making, and he accepted the shot as a win. Macmillan had been less amenable to the call, but was in no position to demand they try again. He'd been bleeding from the side, and for that one split second, Valerian had wished to help him.
But he hadn't. His second had come to his side, demanded they leave, and then they were gone.
And now he was here, and so was Tatiana. Somehow he'd never assumed he would get so far. It was still Tatiana's decision as to whether she would marry him or not, but in the stipulations of their duel Macmillan had agreed to cease his pursuit of her if he'd lost. Valerian greeted Tatiana with a smile and placed his book pages-down on the arm of the table, his hands moving to his knees.
Just as quickly as the smile came, it disappeared.
"He—he what?" he asked, surprised, although not for any reason she would comprehend. Macmillan had just lost. He'd been shot, and honor dictated that he end his pursuit of her, and somehow in the past twelve hours he'd managed to propose?
(Valerian briefly wondered how he was well enough to do so, and almost—almost—felt a pang of concern.)
The following 4 users Like Valerian Macnair's post:
Aldous Crouch, Cassius Lestrange, Charles Macmillan, Reuben Crouch
Aldous Crouch, Cassius Lestrange, Charles Macmillan, Reuben Crouch
