Only remembers the bit from CoS. Lex decidedly unhelpful. :(
"There are other reasons to value my custom," Rus says, waving a hand and the cluttered table.
"Raw-ther"! he says through his nose. "I certainly didn't mean sandwiches." Back to normal voice.
Rus' eyes narrow. "Good," he mutters. "Oh, don't restrict yourself to anything," he tells Severus. "And it won't be dogy;" he defends. "Can't imagine you dogy! It'll just have a discreet back room for the more discerning customer."
"It'd be something to do of an evening," he concedes.
"Really? I might just pop round to give them a look." Rus is a Slytherin to the bone after all; he has a marked fondness for snakes. "I'm considering it," He grins like a pumpkin*. "And these," he pulls out his glasses, "just aren't good enough. Nor is my rather rough look, though that would be better." He leans back in his chair. "How I'd love to meet the person who coined that phrase." He takes a thoughtful gulp of beer. "I'd like to thank him." He sets the mug down and pick up a chip. "I'll just jaunt across the pond tomorrow night then," he says decisively." He nods; he can handle the drying. "The bicorn horn might be a bit of a problem," he admits. "But I seem to recall hearing something about where the apothecary in Diagon Alley got their's. And the boomslang skin as well." Rus gives Severus a direct look. "I'll get what you need, since I need it too," he says.