Blue is still blue, but don't get too cocky about it

I don't think the sunscreen had an awful lot to do with it. I agree that the distinctive scent can sneak around corners and hand anyone with an open nose its bold calling card, but I don't think that alone would be enough to give away both our exact hiding place and/or our identities. For all those kids knew, there was an open bottle of sunscreen somewhere, and when's the last time you got up out of your chair or interrupted anything less urgent than a yawn just to make sure the sunscreen wasn't drying out? Answer: Fucking Never. You don't get a full squad of twelve-year-olds with fixed bayonets charging down a sealed corridor at you based on a whiff of anything, though there may be exceptions to this rule. A warm waft of fresh cinnamon rolls might work. Porkchop sandwiches also come to mind. Upon a moment's review, delicious snacks of many sorts could easily be singled out as the prime agent in provoking violence, had there been any snacks present. Alas, we were miles away from tasty meats and cheeses, and the blame must fall on the most obvious cause: When Fred jumped down out of the rafters and shouted, "You guys are fucked!" His follow-up trick, pointing to the area where the rest of of us were (until now successfully) staying out of sight while adding, "and here's that crew that's gonna do the fuckin'!", simply sealed the deal. Those of you who continue to labor as his apologists should just give this shit up and get happy that he's dead.