Living up to the accusation, Iron Man was waiting for Spider-Man just outside the room, looking about as bored as a suit of armor could look with his hand on his hip, head turning to track Spider-Man's progress as he scrambled out of the clutches of the bugs. His temperature regulated suit kept him unaffected by the wall of heat that the Scarlet Witch erected, right on cue, without even checking what the plan was. His finger tapped on his hip to a tempo contained in his helmet; he even had a soundtrack for Spider-Man Is Bait For Maneating Aliens.
He clearly had full confidence that this would work out just the way he envisioned. Iron Man only moved to drop a hand on Spider-Man's shoulder as he passed into safety, then stepped forward to wrap his arm around the Scarlet Witch and pull her back against his side while he pressed the button that sent the door swishing shut on the beetle barbecue, containing the blaze and the crackling of their shells. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked over his shoulder into the suddenly quieted hall, just them and the floors and walls smeared with alien remains. His finger tapped on Wanda's hip then, this time counting with the beats, waiting for the proper moment to enact the last part of the unspoken strategy.
When it came, he was deliberate and casual, still holding Wanda; the cover that concealed the environment regulation panel next to the door was slid open and he cut off the oxygen to the burning room. The flames would choke in seconds, leaving just a used and charred pyre for someone else to clean.