The shorter guy standing opposite has likewise not moved, as if waiting for more information inside and out before making a decision in that department, darting a look to each figure in the room as they speak or don't. Poised with knife raised and eyes a little wide, ringed white around brown, he flicks a look to the ginger fellow turning focus to him.

A tic to his expression implies: is that bad?

When his altar-bro goes to set knife to their sacrifice's throat, Tony bends his elbows, draws dagger up near his shoulder. Still potentially a stabbing motion if he needed it to be, but a little more self-defensive.

"Maybe also no one make any sudden movements in case anyone with a knife freaks out," he says, not him though, he's fine.