As she made her way to the collection of green houses, Professor Wiltingham pushed through and raised her nose to the air. The warmness of charmed greenhouses reminded her of childhood; the thick stench of grass and lingering perfume of wet soil was a scent she knew all too well. Violet raised a brow effortlessly with the sharpness of a snake, humming slightly.
"Mason!" she said delicately, barely giving him a second to reply. "Mr. Skeeter!" Professor Wiltingham said a bit more sternly.