This was his idea, and it was a good one, if Tony said so himself (and he had, repeatedly), but he hadn't exactly factored in actually committing to attending the event until his scheduling system relentlessly hounded him out of the garage, effectively making it unlivable until he got himself a shower. What a cruel joke to play on oneself. One more strike for the Definitely A Supervillain running tally. Was anyone else keeping track? Tony really had to share the list with at least one of the Avengers, but for now, that was it's own Supervillain Factor.
This was going to be good, though, this was going to be fine, because this was about meeting new people, waving congenially, eating some terrible food and not talking about the barrier. Ideally. The first forty questions of the day were about the barrier, but, in general, low barrier yield. In fact, while an enthusiastic 12 year old instructed Iron Man on how to build the perfect hot dog, he didn't hear about it for about fifteen minutes. "You're going to have to clean that," he pointed out as they sat together at a bench, Tony eating his hot dog and the kid mashing hers against the helmet sitting on the table with a distinctly Loki-esque giggle. "And by the way, this is disgusting."
"I know!"
A bunch of kids couldn't just sit having a snack with Iron Man for very long, though. Very soon, they were having a raucous class on ideal projectile development with plastic utensils, littering the surrounding area with napkins, broken spoons and shrieking laughter. Someone was going to get hurt soon, and it was going to be hilarious. Where did his helmet go?