Rus rolls his eyes. "Perish the thought," he says. "They aren't pickled or anything are they?" he asks as an afterthought.
"If we give them scythes they're likely to do themselves in," he points out. "And I don't want to kill them all. Just most of them. And stop them being in charge."
"No really," his eyes widen. "Who? It's not Bella if that's what you're thinking."
Rus presses his lips together. He really hates putting on a poor show for muggles even if it's for a good cause. "There there," he manages, patting Severus (gently for him) on the shoulder. "Have another drink." He reaches for the glass. "That'll make you feel better."