"Oh, no, no," he says, gleaming a bit. "For a public statement shock and awe, but if you're only affecting one person... that's how we got Pettigrew, you know," he adds, with a mixture of ruefulness, pride, and distaste.
"Oddly balanced, though." He's conceding this point to practicality.
Severus smirks to himself, having won license to bump up an order for his adjusted version of Pepperup in priority so he can make it just after this week's smelliest order. The invigorating and immune-boosting is also exceptionally aromatic while brewing and for some time afterwards, but he'll take spice and oranges over rotten cabbages and formaldehyde (neither of which the potion actually contains) any day of the week.
"He's not," Severus says definitely. "Decidedly not." He watches Rus drink in bemusement. "Hmm? The park, I think." Near the park, anyway. But he has understandable reasons to be in the park, and very few to be in the civic center.