driftfleet | Open. Mingle post for the Tourist!

Ew. It sounds like the first drafts of Mr. Stark's inventions.

He looks concerned at the mortality rate of the coffee machine, but ah, that'll be an undertaking for another time. He moves to clean up any mess left over from his cooking spree, letting Kirk have whatever he'd like of the waffle stack on the table; it's quite a party, you see.

"I'm relatively handy at repairing kitchen appliances. I'll do my best, in other words." But conversation! Not just about coffee machines on their last legs, at that. "You've been here long, Captain?"

Well, he was not responsible for it, so don't blame him for this thing. He just inherited what he was given, all right?

So far the piece was alive and kicking, albeit with attitude, which Kirk didn't find necessarily a bad thing. It certainly kept him on his toes, and it did seem to display some empathy and didn't give him to much trouble when he was truly in a horrid mood. Perhaps it understood that there was a delicate balance to be maintained and crossing the line one to many times would see it dismantled. Winn could build a new one, or Kirk himself - he simply didn't want to put in that kind of effort or money, which was the only reason he hadn't done it up until now anyways.

"Hmm, almost a year. A few months shy," he said absently after a moment of thought. "Time tends to just bleed together here. And keeping track feels a bit like counting a prison sentence, so I tend to avoid it for the most part." He finally gave his full attention to Jarvis now that he had coffee in hand. "What's your world like, Jarvis?"

He hums, thoughtful.

"Well... It's much more simple. We haven't mastered any sort of... space travel. No space ships or -- laser guns. Or anything of the sort. Even the communication devices are supremely overwhelming in how advanced they seem."

A shake of the head, wistful.

"I don't know if you're familiar with 1940's earth?"

"Not particularly. We covered it in history class, but that's over two centuries ago in my time. I'm from the year 2263," he clarified.

And while different countries did focus on their personal histories, much of the courses in such education were now focused on world politics and then inter-stellar politics. Funny, wasn't it? The things that felt important within history, the further it progressed. He racked his brain for the significance of that time frame.

"That was around World War II wasn't it?" he said with a fair amount of surety.

He gives a solemn nod.

"Post-war. It was a particularly hard time for the British, you can imagine. Though others suffered much more terrible fates." His wife Ana -- she and other Jewish survivors, they had so much to witness and struggle with, so much devastation to their people... Jarvis hates to imagine it. He pours himself a bit of coffee in solidarity himself; a cup every so often isn't too terrible. "I'm... glad that it's still known so far into the future. It's important not to forget."

He returns to sit.

"I was fortunate to have not seen too many things -- left the country before the war ended, and I was a general's aide, so I avoided frontlines. Nowadays, though, repairing the world and moving forward seems to be the to-do list."

Kirk did try to study such things as much as he could, and while it was not quite ancient history, those wars were far removed from the atrocities of the Eugenics Wars, World War III, and the Romulan Wars - the latter lasting nearly 80 full years. By comparison, World War II seemed a child's squabble. Which was not to put down what Jarvis had endured, and Kirk made a mental note to try and find some better reading material on the subject.

"It's a necessary step after any major war," he said softly. "I hope that you and yours manage to steer your world away from the fate of mine." A pause. "Well, that's not precisely true. I love my Earth, but there are spots in between mine and yours I would hope your Earth doesn't face."

That wasn't cryptic at all, was it?

"What did you do if you weren't a general's aide anymore?"

He smiles a bit.

"Suppose I found a better life's calling. That is, I married the woman I loved and became a servant to a rich man."

A motion to the food made, an aura of casualness about him.

"I took the job primarily to impress my family before the war. I really had no interest in combat or the rougher edges of military life though, if I may be so honest. Being an aide was at least a way to travel and help in my own way. Now though -- I prefer to cook and do the laundry, however strange that seems to some."

Kirk shrugged. "Hey, if it makes you happy, right? I've always thought that's the most important thing - just enjoying what you do. Otherwise, what's the point? You're basically setting yourself up for a life sentence that way."

It was how he felt before he had been challenged to attend Star Fleet. Wandering through the Iowa wheat fields, searching for something, anything to fulfill him. Star Fleet had been the challenge he sought, even though he had avoided it up until Pike. And now, it fulfilled him another way, gave his life a purpose that honestly he had never thought he would rightly find. Something to feed and sate the restlessness inside of him that served a greater good.

He smiles, nodding his agreement.

"Then I take it you enjoy your job as captain quite a lot?"

"Depends. Do I enjoy it here or back home? If you mean the latter, then yes. I love it. I can't imagine my life doing anything else," he said, a touch wistfully, the ache for home evident just beneath his words. He shook himself out of it quickly, motioning to the space around them. "If you mean here? To a degree, yes. I call myself the captain, but I don't fool myself. It's a rank in name only, but it helps me feel better. Which I know probably sounds ridiculous and a little pathetic, but it feels like gaining back some of my identity."

"It's not pathetic at all."

He says it sure as ever, hands formally folded behind his back.

"We all have our roles we aspire to. For some of us, they help us find happiness or contentment. You should never feel any less of what you are, even in a place like this."

Kirk sees the way he makes himself formally stands, wonders if it's an effect from being a proper English butler and serving in the military. It was interesting that he took it now to speak to him, especially when he had just said that his role as a captain wasn't really anything with weight.

"That sounds like something your commanding officer once said to you," he teased the other man with a faint smile.

"Actually, that was something my granny once said. My commanding officer was a colossal bastard."

A smile, a bit more cocky than the usual smoothed and professional expression.

Kirk titled his coffee cup in solidarity. He liked most of his officers, but there were just some that really got his goat (to be fair, he seemed to do everything possible to upset them).

"Maybe your granny should have been an officer in the war then. She sounds tougher than most by half."

"Tough in willpower, that's for sure. But she abhorred violence. Not a single cruel bone in her body. Couldn't even spank a child if her life depended on it, I think." He smiles fondly. "Violence can't always be avoided, but I like to remember it's not always the only answer."

Kirk nodded. "I think you and I will get along just fine, Jarvis," he smiled over his coffee cup.

Open. Mingle post for the Tourist!

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