"I don't think I'll be taking lessons on morality and soverignty from the members of the Facist Five." It would be safe to say Tony didn't mirror Emma's dismissive lack of attention, although the dark expanse of his psy-damping glasses prevented his careful study of her from appearing anything truly lecherous. Just because the plant was poisonous didn't meant you couldn't admire the flowering. "Consider me America's babysitter to make sure you all don't start snorting Phoenix Dust and thinking yourselves Gods again." 

It was textbook Stark, his lips moved, delibertaly aggrevating those present while his mind kept track of a thousand other details. It worked in the boardroom, and for all their atom-granted power, it worked on mutants as well. How many times had he got the up on someone who should have been far more capable, far more powerful, than him simply because they were trying to imagine his many painful deaths while he multi-tasked the solution? It was hard not to view these people as enemies, they were certainly rivals, and their actions had endangered more than even he could claim, but for now at least their interests seemed parallel. Not aligned though, he would have to remember that.

"I think a whole lot of us are going to be asking questions there are no comforting answers to." The tap-tap of Tony's suit-clad fingers sounded along with his words, the activity of his mind expressed in the coping mechanism of pressing each digit to another in turn. It helped hone a man who had never really mastered sitting still. No longer distracted by the calculating sway of Miss Frost's hips, Tony's focus was free to roam among them all, taking in each of them in turn. Despite his earlier words, Tony's strongrest sense of distrust twinged not towards the members of the Phoenix Five, but to the furred form of Beast. His instincts were often wrong, which was a shame, he'd at least been polite. 

Tony stood as the bird touched down, rising with what should have been the most intensive aspect of flying, his suit's dampners easily accounting for the motion, and if it had not, mag clamps in his soles would have no doubt activated. As the access ramp began to descend, the iron helm of his suit shifted over his features once more, the eyes lighting up as he briefly turned back to face his fellow passengers, walking backwards towards the growing light of day.

"What is it you say? 'To me, My X-men." With the line delivered, he turned in full, stepping out of the jet and into the danger of another day yet to be Avenged.