While Tony hadn't been expecting a warm welcome, this mood was decidedly more hostile (for all of the smiles and braiding they put on) than all of their cheerful courting of the press led anyone to presume. If anyone deserved to be hostile, it should have been the guy who was recently the hunted, not the perfectly cozy and unbothered hunters. Maybe they were within rights to assume his change of heart wasn't genuine, but being assholes about it wasn't going to make Iron Man easier to work with.
"Great," he accepted, clapping his hands together with finality on that thorough tour of the accommodations. No easy friends to make here, then. He had to force himself further into the kitchen, idly browsing the selection of fruit he would have to raise his mask to eat, hoping someone more personable might show up and give him the opportunity he needed sometime soon. Until then, "Don't let me interrupt," he encouraged, "I'm not even here," and leaned his great, well-polished weight against the counter.