Tony was telling the agents how he was pretty sure they were beyond 'Sir' and all on a first name basis when it was his dick saluting them like the proper soldiers they were, but they were having none of it and Tony just had to turn sulkily and accept his fate. Leaving the country didn't even work. Nick Fury actually found a way to stop this from happening from a different timezone. With a helicopter. The sky was clear and Tony could hear music and laughter and waves crashing on the beach, so he felt he had it on pretty good authority that the world wasn't being consumed by unending flames or crippled into slavery by some fantastic, new alien race that hated them for being alive. It was always at least cloudy on those days. He couldn't imagine what could be so important that Fury had to send the dogcatchers.
He didn't even leave the room. Just let the agents linger awkwardly in the doorway and jump to avoid the abruptly angry hurl of sodden fabric in their direction, and just catch Tony back to looking simply sulky by the time the ruined pants slapped wetly against the wall.