Tony should have been very happy to direct the conversation. He'd hoped, back during the more clear-headed hours he'd spent ruminating (on and off, between bouts of deep procrastination) over the best way to say what he needed to say and get Rogers the hell out of his home before one of them threw something, that he could find a way to sit the man down and get him simply to listen. He'd pieced together a series of essential talking points, not exactly a script, but a rehearsed and logical progression of ideas.
1. I didn't know the attack in Eight was going to happen. 2. I'm sorry it happened. 3. I'm sorry I said you were an idiot. 4. I was upset because what you were saying was dangerous. 5. But it wasn't wrong. 6. A lot of what you say is dangerous, but not wrong. 7. If you really want to accomplish anything you say you do, you need help saying it in less dangerous ways. 8. I can help you with that. 9. And also with a very large number of guns. 10. It would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner.
Simple. Easy. In his line of work, a ten-item pre-launch checklist was on the less complex side of operations he was expected to perform. Nor had he ever had much trouble bowling people over with his own flood of words, refusing to be interrupted by anything short of a blow to the face. By all rights, he should have had this in the bag.
"I wonder," he muttered, his qualms and his discomfort spilling out in his usual sarcasm, lightly tinged with petulance. But - no, that was wrong. Start again. He was very, very aware of the third man, of the other pair of ears that was picking all of this up; and he would have better luck, he decided, if he tried to speak to him instead. So he slid to the edge of his chair, set his drink on the table that stood between them, set his elbows on his knees, all but holding his head in his hands - and looked at his glass rather than at Rogers' face. "All right. Look. What happened at the demonstration - I didn't want it to happen. I didn't know it was going to happen. I wouldn't have let them do it, I mean, it was - completely boneheaded. I told you that. If I'd known about it, I'd have warned you, or - well, maybe not, you're not much of an actor, but it would have been better than whatever rise they were trying to get out of you, which was what they were trying to do. Anyway. Look. I'm -"
He broke off to chew on his next word, his hands working at the sides of his neck, folding briefly under his chin; belatedly, he grabbed a coaster off the stack in the center of the table and shoved one under his drink. "I'm sorry. That it happened."