He's pivoting around to see if anyone is paying attention just as the Morale Officer casts some magic. Well, that's nothing if not a sign.

Tony approaches the chest. He has on some tough leather gloves, scratched up and flexible, more something he would wear in a workshop than a battlefield, but it seems salient in a temple full of sharp things, Tainted things, and everythings in between. He feels along the edge of the chest lid, finds a grip, hefts it—

It flips backwards, heavy, thumps against stone wall. Tony leans to look, suddenly stiffens as if taking an electric shock to the spine, springs a step back.

And pivots. "Nothin'. All clear on the empty treasure chest."