That look from Pietro was hard to ignore, not matter how much Tony would rather stay out here with Wicked while Pietro put on his apron. He returned it with a slight grimace that bloomed quickly into a grin as he turned to Wicked and passed, hand drifting over her shoulder with their promise to be prompt. And classy.
If Pietro wanted to have some kind of conversation, though, he could start it; Tony wasn't going to initiate his own dressing down, he did that enough to himself. So he took his time wandering casually through their apartment to investigate their fridge, finding a jar of olives first and surreptitiously knocking a milk carton with his knuckle. Empty, of course.