"That's not a plan, that's a costume change!" Tony would know, he was an expert at not having a plan, and could tell when it was happening even if it was dressed up with soulless eyes. Unfortunately, arguing about it in the middle of the hall was not going to make it any better of a plan, and the dead weight over his shoulders was slowly reducing him to a sweaty mess that rapidly losing any chance to appeal to a lady about a murder. He heaved at the arm he carried to drag him and Cayde along, with determination and without direction still. At least if they weren't lingering, they only made a passing, bizarre impression, rather than a lasting one.