"You'll join me when I dine of course," Rus says with a wicked smirk.
"And stopping these people is wrong somehow?!?!" he asks, outraged beyond belief.
"Who do you think?" he wonders. "All right then, dumb and twitchy. Drop things. Spill. They'll never suspect."
"Sounds interesting," T1 speaks up, his voice the throaty rasp of a three-pack-a-day-smoker. He jerks his chin at the darts in Rus' hand. "Lesse if you can make it then." T2 pouts, taking a pull of his lager. "Anything you say," Rus tells him serenely. He hurls the darts at the board, one after the other. All three stick in the nine, quivering slightly.
T2's mouth hangs open. "Cor!" he whispers, awed. "Nice," T1 agrees grudgingly, though his eyes widen at the display.
"Oh, it's just something I do," Rus simpers, badly overplaying things. "That's a triple-double to me then right Seth?" He turns and grins at Severus. "Your turn."