The Iron Man's mask might not have been expressive, but Tony's sympathetic wince was dramatically clear as Spider-man slapped against the side of the annoying machine. They needed to establish some synchronicity here before either of them had to do anything like that again. That was the problem with being interrupted every time you tried to pick up a conversation, it kept everybody off balance.
Aborting the motion he started to warn Spider-Man of the nasty looks he was getting, Iron Man took the initiative instead to fire a concussive blast from both his palms to knock the spider's shot off course. Its laser cut through the sky, burning an afterimage in Tony's eye that was rapidly blotted out by his own three successive hits to its head as he stepped closer. The result was charred metal, and its spiny legs insistently kicking the air. "Sort of," Iron Man agreed, for the triumph of an exchange.