You know he's not wrong actually got Tony up out of his chair. He hauled himself to his feet, taking his glass with him, and made a restless turn or two in front of the fireplace before settling one elbow on the mantle. Admitting any kind of allegiance with the gibberish Rogers had been spouting about change and how people weren't really living made him itch, made him want to shut this whole conversation down and pretend none of this had ever happened. Every fiber of his substantial self-preservation muscle was flexed against acknowledging that Rogers could be working toward anything at all.
"He shouldn't do either. He needs to stop feeling so loud people can hear him halfway across the country, and he needs to - he definitely needs to not plan anything. What the hell do you want him to plan?" But he waved off the answer to that question before there was time to respond - he didn't even want to think the words, protest, opposition, rebellion, and he very emphatically didn't want Jarvis saying them. "Forget it. Leave it. It doesn't matter." He rested his head in his hand, sinking his fingers into his hair and tugging a little, a nervous, edgy habit; and he stared down at him where he sat, or rather past him, where the fire's reflection glowed in the mirror. "There's not a word I could say to get him to come here, anyway. You should have seen him - backstage. After. It's like everything that comes out of my mouth is in a different language. We have nothing in common."
And going back to Eight was out of the question - far too conspicuous, and certain to lead to questions from the wrong people. He didn't relish the thought of forcing himself on wherever Rogers was staying, anyway. It was telling that he wasn't questioning why it was proper that he ought to check up on the man - he knew how much of the blame for what had happened to him lay with him. He didn't normally worry whether his attentions would be welcome, either. But when everything he did seemed to further destabilize the ground he shared with an already volatile man, even he could see that his usual impulse to keep on stepping up to him wasn't going to end well.