"No one takes pride in their work any more," Rus laments.
"I wouldn't have lasted a week," he says. "Or my students wouldn't have," Rus adds cheerfully. He raises a questioning eyebrow at the man. "That depends on how much you can afford to lose." Rus' tone is not-quite-menacing, but he's smiling. "Er," the barman reconsiders. "I'll just watch then." He fumbles about in the box, not looking at either one. "Good idea," Rus beams. "And keep the drinks coming." He turns to Severus. "I shall let you have the green," he tells him magnanimously. "I'll take the black. For luck."
I can't think of anyone from HP I'd want to name a child after. *recoils in horror* Ah well. It's all over now. Rus wouldn't poison Severus; it'd be like taking coals to Newcastle! :D