For a man who made a career out of seeing everything that was to come, what he couldn't see was that much more terrifying. Those were shadows in only the furthest, dankest corners. What was hovering just at the edge of Tony's vision then was making his skin crawl; Pietro's behaviour was creepy. He stayed so even, like he was afraid of going off-script, and he didn't even understand the full implications of what he was doing or saying.
Tony only tensed as he moved. Maybe this was the message Magneto meant him to deliver: a knife right in the back, all with this pathetic, torturous show. But Pietro didn't have to rely on those tactics. He could have sliced Tony fifteen times in the space it took him to blink, and just watched him bleed out on the sand. The hug wasn't returned. Tony's arms, stiff, stayed in the air, fearing to make too much contact with Pietro, but once Tony had managed to take a full, halting breath, it was released as a sigh against Pietro's hair.
"Why don't you try then?" he asked quietly, feeling exhausted. Whatever Tony said to make Pietro think he wasn't meant to be an Avenger, get the fuck away from this team, apparently took deeper root than the sentiment that had Tony asking him to join the in the first place-- that was, that he was capable, that Tony trusted him, that Tony knew exactly where he belonged. Tony wasn't going to apologize for not thinking he was perfect. He would never be perfect, and Tony would keep demanding him to be. Pietro would rather make an enemy of him.