That was rude, but more like the Pepper he knew and adored so the thunk of his mug earned her Tony's sharp and hard-won interest. After a few days, he had come to accept not all Peppers were made equal, and some of them just weren't arresting enough to be Mrs. Pepper Starks. This one, in particular, barely tested Tony's fleeting awareness and he had spent most of his time in this office waving her out of his way or downright ignoring her when he didn't need someone to liaise with the little people. Then he was more than happy to interface for as long as it took to send her out of the building (and watch her go, forlornly, until something young and delicious slid into his line of sight).
Now she was all confrontational with a little colour in her cheeks and a little heave to her breast that Tony was happy to give attention, eyebrows arched and stylus twisted idly in his fingers. "I don't think I know what you mean," he purred, already showing signs of glazing over, glow of his screens nagging at his attention and eyebrow twitching in belated irritation for being interrupted. He would have that coffee, thank you. Pepper wouldn't have been nearly so frustrating if she wasn't a striking reminder of everything that was profoundly lacking in this sad life. With a little spark of life in her, she would have been his Pepper and seeing her like this made his loneliness verge on debilitating. This coffee could use some Irishing.