At least Tony was ready for that, but the adrenaline hadn't quite kicked in enough to compensate for the sluggishness and he had no plan for his next move. He had to roll with her punch and let the jolt get his blood cycling, face still scrunched in pain when he threw his shoulder into her to slam her back against the fogged glass wall of the shower. Maybe he was misremembering, but he thought it was pretty clear the last time she had surprised him that there wasn't going to be any more talking. Mystique had exhausted her chances and whatever she had to say to him was not welcome. Never would be. Well, probably. What Tony knew was, letting Mystique talk was guaranteed to end in as much blood as this was.