Both of them do

The dagger flew through the air towards the tall man who, sadly enough as far as he was concerned, didn’t have the opportunity to move out of its way. Instead, the man opened his mouth to let out a scream of pain, but the fact that Nils’ dagger had hit him right in the throat meant that a gargled exclamation came in the scream’s stead, with the man falling backwards to land on his arse on the floor, his hands coming up to his throat in an utterly futile attempt to stop the flow of blood.

Nils however didn’t not see the fortunate result of his throw, as he too had been injured, albeit the fact that he had shifted his stance to the right after letting his dagger fly from his hand had meant that the pistol ball had struck him along the left side of his ribcage, rather than in the centre of his chest, where the now rapidly dying stranger had been aiming.

Still, the **** of the impact combined with the shock of actually being shot (an experience that was new to Nils, and that he would characterize as highly unpleasant) meant that Nils soon made his deceased opponent company in lying down on the floor, with blood seeping out from the long flesh-wound that ran along his ribs.

Finding herself being the only party in the room that was currently remaining upright, Constance Foxworth glanced at both participants of the highly haphazard duel with fear and shock in her eyes, the well-dressed young beauty appearing to be completely frozen.

She only remained so for a brief passage of not more than ten seconds, though even such a amount of time felt like an eternity for Nils, who was certain that he was dying, before she moved over the spot in the room were her rescuer was placed.

Dropping down on her knees next to him, an act which caused the spots of dirt and mud on the floor to rub off against the blue silk of her exquisite dress, Constance gave Nils a look filled with concern that he thought to be genuine. If it indeed was so, it was certainly a marked difference from the mischievous and provocative manner in which she had behaved when they had first met.

“You’re hurt!” Constance said, most likely for her own sake so that it would register properly in her mind, for Nils needed no such reminding.

“Are…” Nils weak voice was abruptly paused by a strong wince of pain, “we safe?”

“He’s dead.” Constance replied, with a coldness that was another significant shift in her demeanour. “Now, let’s get you out of here!” With that, Constance grabbed hold of Nils’ arms and began to drag the wounded sailor up on his feet.

Despite the pain, and aided by the realization that he might just not be acutely dying, Nils did his best help Constance out in her efforts to get him standing, using the arm on his unwounded side to brace his powerless body against the nearby wall.

Finally upright, Nils more or less collapsed against Constance, red drops of his blood now mixing with the blue fabric of her dress and the brown spots of mud that already soiled it.

“Your dress…” Nils mumbled, as Constance led him towards the door.

“Silly boy, it’s only a dress.” She replied while kicking the door open and pushing them both out into the open. “Now, I know someone who can patch you up.”

“Who knows?” She then added, with a smile, “You might even get that bath that we talked about.”