There was nothing Tony knew to say to that, so he shrugged, worrying his lips and tossing his head with the anxiety of hearing the phrase at all. That was for promising deals that fell through and funerals, when nothing else could be done and they should have been looking to the next thing anyway. He had barely looked up on Steve's approach, hearing the door and only shooting a glance his way before intently contemplating his gloved hands, jaw tight. The approach would have been easier on his terms, not while he was sitting here, vulnerable and on his ass, his helmet sunk in the pool and out of reach. Steve didn't give him enough time to work through his tension and seal his armor, and when he finally met Steve's gaze it was only briefly.
"How many are inside?" he tried to ask with calm efficiency, because he was just taking stock to organize the work flow and get everything running. Staring at Steve's boots, though, he could only mumble and hoped Steve would have the mercy to just answer him and let him work. They didn't have to talk about the Tower or even the zombies or any of the other shit; they had people to take care of.