Though more distraught than hurt by having his face stomped into the ground, Iron Man gladly held onto Thor's arm, the remains of the pulse the sweetly smoking flakes of charred summer-green grass too well fed to catch fire and spread. "Can we try to talk this out?" he proposed, not eager to find out what Ares could do to him now that he had taken what could be construed as offensive action. "Of course he's emotional, you kicked his door in, did you even tell him who you were--?" Which was all very altruistic up until the helpful 'object incoming' alarm had Iron Man whipping around, then jerking Thor with him, putting himself between the pair again to take the axe to the shoulder. He was pretty willing to fall then, rather than be cleaved in two, gaining some admirable momentum from the impact and tearing up more of Ares' fine lawn. All right, maybe they were beyond talking.