Death wasn't Tony's greatest worry and he might have been offended if it wasn't a) in his favour and b) mostly his fault that she thought him a little dim. Obviously, if anyone had wanted to kill him they would have thoroughly squandered the chance he gleefully handed to Emma by bringing him here instead of some dark pit to cut his throat. He didn't have to be afraid of that. Whatever plans Ms. Frost had for him, Tony was meant to survive them, however intolerable that was going to be.
Maybe it was for the best that this night wasn't meant to be the beginnings of a friendship, because Tony suspected it wouldn't have been an easy one to maintain. He couldn't imagine easy discourse with someone who felt so obviously at home in a place stuck in the dark ages that looked prone to dust and resentful of chrome. Many challenges of ideas could be tolerate in a relationship but aesthetic just wasn't one of them, Tony decided. Like bad music. The (arguable) kidnapping was probably a point against the venture, too.
Emma was right (again, dammit), though. Tony hadn't expected to walk into an empty hall. Not that it put him at ease; the opposite, in fact, as he attempted to revisit just what he thought might be happening here with much less confidence. "Cozy," he noted, rather than engaging in whatever she meant him to, admiring the attention to completely outdated detail with pointed interest (or disinterest, as it were, in Emma until she would get to the point).