Hunter didn't need his mother's keen sense of smell to know that the scent of violets was going to linger a while. "Aye," he agreed readily, relieved not to have another glowing device pushed in front of his face. What must it have been like for Quidditch players before Winsta-gram and the like? Peaceful, he imagined.
"I'm not saying there's a reason that I do a job a hundred feet up in the air but..." Hunter said with a grin. "I still dream about this place during the Christmas rush."