Rus's mouth pulls into a one-sided Just you wait smile. "Hmph," he hmphs. "It might do," he concedes. "No need to elaborate," he goes on. "I'm quite sure you can imagine well enough."
"I guess it depends on what you're talking about," Rus grins.
"That might be a problem," Rus admits candidly. "I very firmly want to leave here." he listens, nodding at each point. "One: not sure what you mean. Two: I can dispose of the carcasses and no one will ever know they were there. Spread the operations far enough around and that won't be a problem. Though traveling long distances might be." He shrugs. "First, kill all the lobbyists. An easily worked solution." The waiter, returning with their drinks, essays a horrified smile, sets them down and hurries away. "Set up in Knockturn then," Rus tells him pragmatically. "Or whatever the equivalent here is. You'll get the business. People are such hypocrites."
"Why don't you use bones?" he asks, perking up at the mention of them. "From those carcasses. Polish them up and Bob's your uncle. Speaking of exotics," he drawls, "I'd like you to make me some polyjuice." He takes another bite, relishing what the response to that will be.
Yes, well, er, he's distracted right now you know. True she is. He'll treat her with kid gloves.