[It's really difficult to be appropriately pissed when Rogers is so infuriatingly calm, but even the attempt drains away once the door swings shut. Tony's still -- something, maybe not mad exactly but stinging, and not just from his lucky-to-be-not-dislocated jaw. Some mix of "who does that lug think he is?!" and "damn I'm an idiot."]
[Nothing for it now -- at least not until Pepper and the rest find out, and Tony's not going to be beating down their doors with it. He turns to his third, red-marred canvas and starts smearing, then swipes at his soon to be bruised jaw like it itched. It won't keep Pepper off his trail for long, but maybe long enough to finish this painting thing and get back to the bad lighting of his makeshift workshop.]