Miles just snorted at Cass' question. Of course he'd thought of it. It was the very thought that drove him to kill his own father, and it was the root of all his hatred towards Troy. "You think I haven't tried?" was all he ended up saying. But the gate was long open, and the horse long gone now.
There was a flaw in Cass' logic, but he didn't think now was the time to point it out. If by some chance Rodolphus won, then right this minute, he'd be fairly well placed to be quite safe, and quite well off. But being the true Slytherin he was, he figured that if an opportunity presented to jump ship should the Lestranges start to lose, then he'd be overboard before anyone else. Wasn't that all part of the pact he'd made with Draco about Snape all those months ago? Of course he was a little worried that he'd not heard from Draco at all. It was far too unlike him to remain so quiet for so long.
Cass' words summed it up well. "Yes, that would be best," he admitted, his anger now pushed aside. He held up the bottle of firewhiskey, asking if Cass would like another. Merlin, why couldn't this be all over now?