Tony doesn’t intend to go anywhere either. Just like with the Hulk, he aims to let his actions speak louder than his words. He isn’t going anywhere. He fully intends to stay, through one big green freakout after another. But he gives Bruce his space, too; he drops one arm completely and draws his hand around so it’s resting lightly against his hip, easy enough for Bruce to step away from when he wants to.

“You Tarzan, me Jane?” he asks, grinning. “Actually, right now I think I’m Tarzan and you’re Jane. I’m the one not wearing pants. That totally makes me Tarzan.”

In terms of peacefulness, these woods suck, but he kind of thinks that Bruce is onto something. Glancing around, he hums thoughtfully, giving it legitimate consideration. “We could do it if you want to. Make a little escape from the world clubhouse. Geniuses only kind of thing. If you’re not a genius and you don’t have a tiger, you can’t join. And I mean, put it up high enough and we’d be safe from whatever Stanley didn’t eat or kill or chase away.”