I love this scene. I mean I adore it. There’s barely any dialogue and yet everything comes across perfectly. Chance is so smug when they face off, completely and totally convinced there is no way he can lose.
Yet not only does he not even get to fire his own shot before Plunkett fires his own, but the only reason he survived it is through cheating (the fact that these duels were more about satisfying one’s honor and effectively bruised ego than killing one’s opponent speaks volumes here).
And yet when he takes his own shot with careful aim, and clearly, or so it seems to me, aiming for Plunkett’s heart, the best he can do is deal him a wound to the arm.
And Plunkett’s still standing.
Still standing, his pistol arm unhurt, and while a second shot could technically be called Chance knows it wouldn’t do him any good. A second shot would be uncouth, a third barbaric. And beyond that, with his one trick spent and nothing left now to stop the bullet, a second shot would get him killed.
Chance wanted satisfaction, instead he gets to walk away from this duel knowing that this vermin for all intents and purposes bested him in his own game.
It’s fucking glorious.