Kurt stepped off the sixth different public bus he'd taken, grateful to be standing and knowing that there would be no more cramped, smelly rides. In the very first bus he'd willingly trapped himself in, someone with a neckbeard and a fedora--yes, a [i]fedora[/i]-- had sat right next to him and in the process made it apparent that he'd never heard of deodorant. On the fourth ride, an exhausted-looking mother with a screaming toddler had taken up the seat behind him, given him a headache that still cracked his head open, and multiple times made him nearly drop his potted plant. As a result, the uneventful rides had been tense as Kurt had waited for the next sweaty jerk to dampen his mood. 

Now, clutching the pot that contained a succulent, he marched victoriously towards the nearby building which he knew to be the Power Research Laboratory. Finally, after that hellish public transportation journey, he could look forward to the powers he might soon be granted-- if he didn't die or hack up his kidneys. It was with nervous excitement that he approached the gate and pressed a buzzer. "I have an appointment here," he started, unsure. 

"Name, please?" came a voice that crackled with having come through an intercom. 

"Kurt Gordons." He stood, cradling the precious plant, in silence, while he assumed that the person on the other end was looking up his name. 

"Oh, yes. A Poison Ivy wannabe," joked the woman, making Kurt crease his eyebrows and frown in a way that clearly demonstrated his lack of amusement. She hastily continued: "The gate's open, sir. Go on through and you'll find further instructions inside." 

Eager to escape the bad humor and maybe have a seat to himself, he went through the gate, still scowling at the lady's sarcasm.