[In all honesty, this? ... This wasn't something he was expecting. Sure, he'd been expecting a lecture, yelling, whatever. That he could field any day of the week. An actual punch in the face, though?

Of all people he expects that from, Charles isn't actually one of them.

Which might be why he's just sitting there for a moment, tonguing the side of his cheek as he presses his hand to the outside, feeling the slightly heated up skin, what would no doubt be a bruise by the end of the day. Seriously, he's getting really tired of people punching him in the face, even if he does deserve it. Even if he keeps setting himself up for it, practically sticking his jaw out and telling them to just go for it.

Still, as Charles rants, Tony's just listening, his expression blank, eyes just slightly narrowing as he listens, lets the words wash over him. There's a lot he could say to that, really. A lot he should say. But finally, he just smirks, the expression more tired than actually amused.]

Right, Hitler's off limits. Consider this me going out in style. [He doesn't care about keeping up pretenses right now, with the guy who can literally just read his mind and figure out what he'd been thinking. He'd already accomplished what he needed to. There was a wedge driven between him and anyone who'd listened to Erik's post.]

So who else is coming to punch me in the face? Pretty sure you're just a scout.