[OPEN] A Day in the Life of Edwin "Charm" Jarvis

[edwinjarvis]

Who: Edwin Jarvis and You!
Broadcast: N/A
Action: tourist, iskaulit, planetside, all over.
When: IDK sometime lately.


5:00 AM — Rise and Shine!

The Edwin Jarvis rises from its slumber. He makes a routine to check the devices to make sure nobody has exploded or broken their bones since he went to bed; most of the time, everything is quite alright. He makes himself a little tea and peruses. It's a shame these devices don't have those Emojis. They're very cute, really. He makes a mental note to ask someone more technologically advanced about this endeavor.

7:00 AM — Breakfast.

He moves to make breakfast for the crew, well-aware some of them will probably prefer sleeping more and having cold eggs later. Omelettes are on the menu today, thanks to the garden and the planet-side visit giving him a bit more to work with. There is also, while they're in the company of said planet, sausages to go with it, and a sweet syrup that isn't too unlike the kind from earth, albeit with a sort of lemony aftertaste.

What is more concerning is the fact that the plates and food all begin floating as he sets the table. Floating! He is trying his best to recollect everything. But, um. It's gone full-on space in here with our stuff. It seems Jarvis has been effected by a glitch temporarily; his good mood has gone and caused everything to defy gravity!

"Oh — get — back here — " he huffs, jumping for a pan and being, despite his great height of 6'3", unable to reach it at the moment.

... Well, still. Lets not let the food go to waste.

9:00 AM — Gym.

His important regiment of exercise and practicing hand-to-hand combat has not fallen by the wayside. Clad in a jumpsuit that has the sleeves tied around his waist (not nearly so great for imperative range of motion, but it will suffice), he practices general weights, boxing with an easy opponent (why, the punching bag, of course), and perhaps finds himself pining for fencing supplies here. He takes a mental note to ask someone of a blacksmith's background if they could make fencing supplies.

10:00 AM — Gardening.

Jarvis has made it his life's goal to begin a herbal garden.

And it must be so. He plucks weeds from the overall garden itself and then gets right to work; while he may not be able to plant all Earth-related forms of plantlife, he has found a decent few seeds that will at least help him to spice up his cooking more than usual.

11:00 AM — Planetary Visits.

Jarvis visits the Co'Kal. Lovely group of — birdhorsepeople!

"... They look suspiciously like the potoo bird. Is that just me?"

Later, one of those potoobirdhorsepeople hit on him.

He is mortified, but he does wrangle down the price on some promising dinner supplies.

1:00 PM — Work.

At The Space Bar, he works in the back — cleaning, mostly, and cooking light meals for lunchtime. Though he does do serving as well, and really, is this any different from home? It may be more people than a Howard Stark in his lonely little bubble of him and the Jarvises, but there are less... giggling... hardworking Hollywood production staff.

He's more than happy to visit here, though. And look at the new alien alcohol like it's the devil incarnate.

Not worse than a flamingo, but still.

6:00 PM — Dinnertime.

Tourist, he's returned! This time bearing gifts. Something delectable that smells like chicken, actually. The Co'Kal that hit on him sold him some wonderful sandbirds, which are actually very delicious. Everyone be on time if you want some; it will make the whole ship smell heavenly, regardless, and it's in moments like these he feels very blissful. Carrot-like vegetables are being steamed and peppered, and mashed potatoes, synthetic but not so terrible once they're whipped with some substitute supplies, are in a nice large pot.

And yes, Peggy, he will bring you a plate.

7:00 PM — Crafts.

He is damned determined to make these lovely scales into something, though. The sandbird is prized for these scales — and they would make wonderful jewelry. He sits at the kitchen table after dinner has ended, his spectacles on and his attention deeply focused in making a pair of earrings. Simply because... why not? Let us not be wasteful.

"Oh, blasted thing," he mumbles, though hardly stops as he punches a hole through the thick scaling with a steady hand.

8:00 PM — Reading time.

Another careful combing of the network, to make sure nobody has exploded or broken any bones.

Two ships have dramatically smashed into each other, but they're totally okay.

Jolly good.

9:00 PM — Sleep.

He slips out of his carefully kept suit, exchanges them for nightclothes, and slips into his bed.

With a kiss of his ring, he reaches out and turns off the light, ignoring the impulse to roll towards the left; it's not a queen bed, after all.

"Goodnight, dearest."

He will do his best tomorrow as well, just for you.

Comments

gardening

[paraclete]

They'll take a bit of time. [But it sounds less like discouragement and more like a pleasant observation made by someone who appreciates it. Or, who appreciates seeds.

Or, really, who appreciates both time and seeds.

Kaworu's standing nearby in the garden, hands, as ever, in his pockets. (He could pretend to be fashionable, when he's like this, in cardigans and mellow colors.) He's a slight young man, but his smile is far less slight.]

[edwinjarvis]

[Jarvis looks up, a little surprised by the mysterious voice.

oh! A young man. with very... interesting hair. Oh, the poor man, he must be prematurely graying.]

Ah! Yes, that's very true, isn't it? As do all good, rewarding things.

I apologize; I was too caught up in my own head to notice your company.

[paraclete]

[This seems to cheer Kaworu to perhaps an unexpected degree, but it's exactly the sort of thing he likes to hear from the heart. All that his smile does to his face—it's entirely earnest.]

I do think a plant is good and rewarding. It's a special way to nurture. Having a hand in motherhood, perhaps.

[...Well...

Anyway,] I don't mind. A thought can be strong company by itself. I'm not more urgent than your head.

What are you sowing today?

[edwinjarvis]

[Oh, you're an odd one, aren't you.

Well, he is more than content with the odd ones. As long as they're not crazy Russian assassins.]

Some herbs, really. I haven't moved onto more substantial vegetables, but I find herbs are imperative to a decent meal. [adjusts his gloves, looking content.] I'm a bit of a fan of cooking, you could say, and the spices are adequate but not to my standard.

[paraclete]

[Kaworu is odd, and most people who've held a conversation with him can attest to that, but he isn't Russian, at least. Nor much of an assassin, not exactly. More of a... moon man pilot? It's complicated.

But he's very good-natured. And he looks about as content as Jarvis.]

Cooking is good. [His voice is full of encouragement, but also a little more excitement than his placidity usually allows.] But that's all I know about it, that it's good.

post-dinnertime.

[mucked]

[ peggy has learned to anticipate (if not expect) a spare plate of food on certain evenings. without a word of coordination, she and edwin jarvis have fallen into a kind of routine. and without fail, tonight he can find her in her bedroom -- the door is left open like an invitation. she's sitting at her desk with pieces of paperwork spread across its surface.

the room is tidy, but it bears signs of use. a jacket hung on a hook -- a few bottles of nail polish on the shelf. except (for the most part) the shelf holds steve's things: men's shirts, folded. she doesn't see fit to hide these clues.

when jarvis arrives, peggy pushes her chair back and stands. ] Like clockwork, Mister Jarvis. I hear you enter and my stomach starts to rumble.

[edwinjarvis]

Clockwork is the best way to work.

[You can take the man from the profession, but you can't take the profession from the man.

Besides, he knows, this is particularly different. Miss Carter is his friend.]

Cooked sandbird with... well, I can't pronounce the name of the vegetable, but I promise you, it's quite good. A bit like carrots. [He places it gingerly.] The planet is lovely, isn't it? I mean, the... people there are quite unique, anyway...

[mucked]

[ she has eyes only for the plate, for now. peggy selects a spear of whatever-vegetable and chews it thoughtfully. it is quite good and it is a bit like carrots. she might eventually concede to silverware, but she's not there yet. ]

Lovelier than I might have expected, [ peggy confesses. and then cram another bit of vegetable into her mouth. at long last she looks at him, and then points at a chair a few feet away. it's got a box of papers on it. ] Shove those out of the way and take a seat. Please.

[edwinjarvis]

Understandable. One never knows what dish will be created, with the supplies at hand; it could have ended in my food poisoning for all I know, looking at the planet's inhabitants.

[Because you know, humans aren't Co'Kal.

.... Almost everything on their planet is birdseed.

Jarvis glances at the dangerously occupied chair, and realizes this is one of the rare occasions he sees the Carter in her natural habitat. He wasn't particularly allowed into her other apartment in New York due to a very... intense guard dog, and he tried to give her a decent personal bubble regardless. He realizes that home is very much work. And that is a bit troubling, though expected, with the way her mind works.

He hefts up the box, placing it aside with a quirked brow.]

And I don't suppose this is a box of enjoyable fantasy novels?

Work

[girlverine]

It was mid-afternoon when Laura came into the space bar, which was a rare thing to see when the fleet was near a planet, but she'd gotten a little restless surrounded by all the horse people, and had come back to the fleet to collect herself a bit.

Of course, she hadn't thought to bring any food back, which was what brought her the restaurant, and she came in in that usual silent ghost sort of way she had. Between one moment and the next, Jarvis would turn around and find her suddenly occupying a stool that he was probably certain had been empty when he'd glanced away.

"Hi."

[edwinjarvis]

Oh, he has a good fright at your sudden appearance - with an audible gasp and a hand over his heart, like she's gone and flown the spirit right out of him. But after a moment of recovery, he smiles, albeit with a level of embarrassment.

"... Hello there. Is there anything you need, young lady? I would be most happy to help."

[girlverine]

"Sorry." She hadn't meant to startle him, after all. She just preferred not to announce her presence unless she had to.

At least he seemed to recover fast enough. Probably be a bad thing if she caused a heart attack...

"What is for...lunch?" She asked, finally. She wasn't picky enough to want to order anything specific, just whatever was being made.

[edwinjarvis]

He considers it for a moment.

"Well, at a bar you generally request what would go well with alcohol. However...! I am quite good at sandwiches. And with particularly decent bread, this week! I've found a lovely type on the planet that is very similar to sour dough; it's delightful."

Has he sold you on this sandwich yet.

Gym

[passingthrough]

[She wouldn't normally find herself striding into the gym at such an ungodly hour. You know, 9am, but she needs some stress relief after that ship smashing he won't read about until later. (If that works. Time is confusing.) So, she shows up at the gym in the skin tight suit Winn made for her. Dark blue with a sweet heart neck line aside from the little cat ear silhouette cut into it.] Didn't think I'd see you here. [How little she knows his routine.]

[edwinjarvis]

[Oh!!]

Miss Pryde, good morning.

[He seems to puff his chest a bit when she says that, adjusting the tied sleeves of his jumper immediately with the mildest of indignation and proper posture.]

Actually, I've a very involved regimen I follow. Unfortunately my usual fencing equipment isn't available, but I've found other interesting activities here to occupy the time.

[passingthrough]

I talked to a guy who mentioned he and his brother were making weapons. They might be able to manage fencing equipment with some instruction. Or at least the sword part.

[edwinjarvis]

Oh, that would be wonderful. I would certainly pay to have it done.

[He smiles fondly.]

It is something of a memory for me, fencing; my father wanted me to learn something more... masculine, and I found I actually enjoyed it quite a bit as a boy.

Breakfast

[wolfuncaged]

[You know, all he wants is a regular breakfast without any weird bullshit happening in the middle of it all. That's all he wants. Fenris watches an egg wobbily float through the air and gently splat against the nearest wall. ]

...Perhaps it would be better to count your losses?

[Jarvis, breakfast clearly isn't happening right now. It's okay to admit defeat. ]

[edwinjarvis]

Mr. Fenris, I'm disappointed in you. We must never lose hope.

[... Jarvis, it's breakfast, not a war. But he is adamant and his brow is drawn with great focus as he uses a bowl to trap an omelette onto a plate.]

Ha! There.

[He holds it over to Fenris, still with the lid on top.]

Do be sure to not let the beast out unless your fork is ready.

[He's gonna chase the rest.]

[wolfuncaged]

[You should try it sometime, Jarvis. Losing hope can be rather cathartic. Still, he can't say hes not impressed with Jarvis' breakfast-wrangling skills. He even manages to look completely serious when the plate is offered to him. He gives a firm nod, raising his fork.

This is serious. This is WAR. ]

I am ready.

[edwinjarvis]

That's the spirit!

[So proud of you, Fenris. He starts to recollect synthetic milk back into a cup with partial success.]

What is even the cause of these cursed effects?

Garden

[english_dignity]

"I hadn't pinned you as a gardener." Arthur was rather fond of the gardens himself, but it was an extra treat to spot a familiar face when he came around with a small container of his own finds from his short camping trip.

He offered a smile. "Hope you don't mind some company."

[edwinjarvis]

"Oh, yes, hello! Mr... Kirkland. I do fancy myself a bit of a green thumb, if only slightly."

He is still very unsure of their conversation, but you know what? He's a gentleman through and through who will accept whatever is thrown his way. Though he's wondering if "Mr. England" is any more appropriate. Or "Mr. United Kingdom". Anyway.

"I never mind company, especially in a place such as this. It's good to keep each other occupied, isn't it?"

[english_dignity]

"Arthur's fine, really," he said. Honestly, he'd answer to any of them, even if the last really would include his brothers too, technically. Arthur knelt down a short distance away, carefully starting to transplant his finds. "It really is. I keep a garden at home, so it only makes sense to help out in this one when I can."

[edwinjarvis]

".... Right."

You have no idea how hard it will be for him to remember to just call you Arthur.

It goes against every butler-fiber of his being. But regardless! Carrying on.

"You're fond of gardening? What sort of things do you garden, if I may ask?"