"Your ass has no problem with my hand," Tony says, peeking down to see where he might out more of Bruce's grocery order in. Or some spare socks. "And you're wearing the suit so we can get to the wormhole. I'm not taking the quinjet right back there. Someone will notice and someone will wonder why I'm hanging around. These suits have better stealth capabilities. Aren't you supposed to be a genius? Do I have to explain everything to you?"

No, Tony. You don't have to explain everything but you do have to explain something. Like how Bruce is going to be contained in a tiny, dark, man-sized shell and flown around on repulsors.

The guy doesn't like to fly. How do you think he feels about the lack of cocktail service on this particular flight?

"Are you done complaining? No? Take it up with management. And don't hold your breath. You're not going to suffocate in there."