edwinjarvis | IC contact. Drift Fleet.

That's our Howard.

I dare admit our favorite Howard, though we must never tell him, or he'll want it added to his name when we say it. Has he been... fairing alright, in your presence?

[He worries a lot. But then, he has additional reasons to be anxious for his boss, doesn't he?]

He's readjusting.

[ which isn't saying a whole lot, she knows. ]

You'd swear he was born on the Bishop for how completely he's taken to her.

I'm not surprised. It is a terrifying though, to know that our homes at the moment are something in which Howard Stark would be eager to tinker with.

It makes it considerably worse when you refer to it as tinkering.

Merely taking it from the horse's mouth, so to speak.

The mustached horse.

Yes. Well. That horse has a rather big mouth, doesn't he?

It's what usually gets him into all manner of trouble, yes.

We should be diligent to make sure it doesn't here.

Don't you think it might be high time Howard learned to manage his own messes?

[ oh, jarvis is free to butler as much as needs be! but she'd like to see stark take a bit of personal responsibility once in a while. ]

I suppose the correct answer would be 'yes, undoubtedly'.

But I would have never gotten a chance at normalcy with Ana, or met you, if he hadn't managed one of my messes for me. I guess... I have a difficult time not returning the favor every chance I get, annoyed or exasperated as I am all the while.

There comes a time when tough love is the best favour you can give a man, Mister Jarvis.

[ ...and to that end. ]

We need to talk. You and I.

Perhaps.

I hesitate to ask what talk this could be. Shall I meet you somewhere, or is text sufficient?

...It ought to be done in person. I'll come to you, Mister Jarvis.

[ -- ominous enough in its own right. ]

Are you on your ship or aboard the Iskaulit?

Indeed, I'm at the bistro. Trying to make what I can in the way of those small pies, with dwindled supplies, anyway. I'll be here.

[.......

He's already worried about whatever this chat's gonna be for.]

When do you intend to pack it in for the day? I wouldn't think of being a disruption.

[ the subtext suggests she knows better than to drop whatever this is on him in the middle of a work day. ]

Nonsense, I can always make time... Besides, until we visit a waystation, it truly is quiet here. I can take a break and leave it to the others. Stop by whenever you're ready, Miss Carter.

[ she defers the visit for an hour or so. cruel, maybe -- but peggy is certain she's being cruel to be kind. the nearer it is to the end of his shift, the better. it would be horrible to make anyone finish out their work day after she tells him what she fears she must tell him.

and once she arrives at the bistro? well. she goes straight for the kitchen, skipping any pretense at taking a table and waiting to be waited on. besides, there's something almost comforting about the bustle.

it's less formal, for one. ]

You've made quite the niche for yourself in here, Mister Jarvis.

[ it's all she says by way of greeting. ]

[There is something a bit concerning about this whole thing. Something about it that's -- well, a gnawing sort of alarm, first a pinprick and then a biting kind of uncertainty. There was something off, something she was going to talk to him about that would be stressful. She had that way in her words, and the longer he works, the more he gets himself more and more silently worked up. But, bah. He feels ridiculous, kneading dough and fretting. It's not even going to be anything to get worked up about!

He feels absolutely childish and silly.

When Peggy comes in, he walks for her, having dispelled some of his concerns.

He smiles a bit.]

I do alright for myself, I suppose.

I would like to have a normally stocked kitchen again, but...

But nothing about these circumstances are normal.

[ she picks up a ladle. not for any good reason -- but because it's there, because she's nervous, because she knows she ought to have said something weeks ago. and that alone makes her worry about how jarvis might react. will he hold her silence against her?

some...awfully nasty things got said, in the end. ]

Mister Jarvis. About -- about that sleep I slipped into, not so long ago...

Edited 2017-10-24 22:00 (UTC)

... Yes, that sleep.

[He puts his hands on his hips, frowning more deeply now.]

Miss Carter, you know I was already frustrated enough when you decided to lounge about on a rebar... [It's said somewhat jokingly now that the danger has long passed, but don't think for a moment he's not still sore about that whole event...! So it's with some worry in the lines of his brow that he continues:] You didn't get yourself into anymore unpleasant trouble, did you?

Unpleasantness aplenty, Mister Jarvis. But that's not--

[ she shakes her head, and peers around him before she picks out a plain wooden chair on the far side of the kitchen. ]

Won't you have a seat?

[His expression falls considerably, and he feels strangely cold. A sort of instinct, a grim intuition, and he recalls with sudden vivid clarity his own words to her, when he had to tell her what happened to Howard and his wife. He'd told her something so very similar, and panic is making a fist slowly around his windpipe. Dammit all, Peggy, you'd come back so long ago -- he'd thought everything was relatively alright--]

What happened at home? Is it Mr. Stark?

[Funny, it doesn't even remotely cross his mind that it could be Ana. Because Ana is safe and sound at home, always kept somewhere he can watch out for her. she'd never fall into harm's way. That's ridiculous.]

[ a small shake of her head. it's -- it's all wrong. but that's because there's no right way to say it. ]

Everything is -- alright. [ to a rather tragic definition of 'alright,' if she's honest with the both of them. ] The worst has passed. But, my dear Mister Jarvis, I beg you to take a seat.

[ because this is going to get worse before it gets better. peggy goes so far as to put a hand on his elbow. to lead him. ]

[The worst has passed. It hasn't, because Jarvis hasn't passed it himself yet. That's the anxious thought he has as he moves after a length moment's hesitation, indeed only roused to action by the hand on his elbow. Her words are so careful and lacking in that edge, that hardness she often employs for grim situations she's determined to push through.

He sits rather numbly in the chair, looking a little lost as he waits for her to speak.

She's sitting him down.

She's sitting him down to tell him terrible news. He wipes his hands on the sides of his pants, still dry with flour -- it was just a very normal day, after all. He'd been trying to stretch supplies and make sure his crew of workers were doing alright. He'd been pre-planning the dinner for the Tourist.

Perhaps it's not that bad, though. His imagination was always far too active when it comes to things that would give a fright. He'll feel ridiculous when it's not as bad as he's conjuring. Absolutely silly.]

[ peggy crouches next to him. next to the chair. low enough so she can look upward and see his eyes -- remarkably gentle eyes. she knows that now, if only because she's also seen them harden. she doesn't lift her touch from his elbow. she doesn't dare. ]

I don't have to tell you. Lord knows, you'll live it in time. But I gave assurances that I would be better on fronts like these, and so I will give you the choice. Mister Jarvis, I have some terrible news. But I'll only tell if you feel you're prepared to hear it.

[ he won't be. as prepared as he thinks he is, he won't every actually be. ]

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