That examination, however short, wasn't at all what Tony wanted and he screwed up his face in irritation for the intrusion only to forget any offense the moment it was over and Wanda was filling him in. He escaped her thoughtful help before she could be helpful for too long, hurrying to the couch under his own power to throw himself down and immediately drop his head into his hand thoughtfully, blasting through a chaotic tidal wave of information that he didn't know how to begin to sort through, not until he could get home and regroup. Most importantly, Wanda seemed well and not particularly worried, so nothing oppressively terrible had to have occurred. Which was a surprise.
"You just let him go?" he asked, lip raised in a snarl of some confusion, some frustration, mostly impulse as he rationalized that the other Tony must have come off reasonably sane and trustworthy. It was still him, after all. He knew how to pull that look off. Largely the expression was due to the clearly unstable Tony's freedom to live his life while he got locked up for no good reason. The question, then, Tony realized and resituated himself on the couch to face Wanda and lend some weight to the conversation, should have been, "What did he do? Where is he?" Whatever it was, he had to be stopped before it got out of hand.