Wilson: Mm, mm, mm, mm. What is that I smell? Burnt pumpkin pie with a touch of cinnamon... maybe a tad too much nutmeg?
Tim: That is amazing. You can smell that from over there?
Wilson: Oh, yes, indeedy, Tim. I inherited my father's olfactory sense.
Tim: Your dad has an old factory?
Wilson: No, Tim. I was referring to my sense of smell.
Tim: What does that have to do with your dad's old factory?
Wilson: Let it go, Tim.