@ask-mister-mystery from here
Being blind has a small number of perks, the biggest being the heightening of all his other senses. And Bobby knew the smell of gasoline, and the smell of fireworks, and although he can't prove it, he's pretty sure he can smell a lie. He folds his arms, "glaring" in the direction of the smell behind thick dark sunglasses.
He was trying real hard to like this guy, this guy who his mom was so sweet on and that Olive apparently looked up to, but Bobby isn't really seeing it. Literally and figuratively. He sniffs, scrunching up his nose. "That's a lot of gun powder, Mr. Pines." He couldn't bring himself to call the guy Stan. "I hope you weren't planning on lighting all that up here." He usually has a hard time sounding stern and fatherly, but he's executing it pretty well right now. "You'll give my ma a heart attack." He steps right up to him, stopping just shy of bumping into him. "And I really hope you're not planning on lighting those off with my twelve year old daughter." He knows his kid, and he knows that if someone is lighting off fireworks, she will be right there with a lit punk in one hand a roman candle in the other.
In truth, Bobby liked them too, though he got very little out of them. He got a kick out of feeling the booms from the explosions in his chest, but that’s about it. But he isn't going to admit that or the fact that he didn't really care if his kid was lighting fireworks with an adult just now, not when he's trying to protect his loud-noise hating mother from some very loud noises.











