Hunter sneezes. Twice. And throws an exasperated look toward Cole.
Cole, however, remains entirely oblivious. Seated cross-legged on the floor, he’s pulling old, dusty - probably even moldy - books from a third moving box and setting them onto the shelves in front of him with something that looks a lot like reverence. There are four boxes still waiting at his side.
Hunter sighs. Loudly. “Do you really need all these?”
He can feel another sneeze attack lurking and raises a preemptive hand to his nose.
Cole turns a wounded gaze to him. “They’re my magic books! Of course I need them!”
As Hunter sneezes again - three times, this time - he makes his decision. The library can be Cole’s retreat. Hunter will stay out of it - and away from the dust.