As empty as that statement was, Tony couldn't help but love it. He loved every opportunity he got to look smug and knowing, really, and while he might not have been much of a palm reader, the future was his business. For Emma, he did have some concepts for her immediate future that he was sure she would be happy to invest in, but his talent was really more in the macro, long term arena. So he rolled his eyes and shrugged with a smirk, and returned his unblinking stare to her face, only to be caught laughing at the shameless invitation. There were only so many women on the planet that had the confidence to pull that off with so much grace, and Tony was of the opinion that they should be treasured.
"Okay, here's the thing," he started, reining in his mirth to gravity only offset by the mischief in his eye while he straightened with the propriety of the matter and gestured emphatically as he spoke. "I try to at least pretend I didn't come down here to just treat you like chattel and whether I'm very good at maintaining that image or not is debatable, obviously, you know, next time when I start drooling you could just give me a heads-up, but I have to say I kind of like the feeling, and it's a dangerous game to play making me think you do, too, because then I'm meeting new, actually respectable women-- let's be honest, what I feel for you is more like fear and we should take a minute to appreciate my effort in spite of that-- women at parties and they're expecting me to be gracious and not completely exploit them and at least ask their name before guessing their cup size and there are only so many times a man can be slapped before his ego takes a serious wounding." Piece said, Tony sipped demurely from his champagne, somehow back in his hand somewhere between 'chattel' and 'exploit', casual and not even watching Emma anymore for her reaction.