[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

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?

[mucked]

Hardly. [ dry and drawling. ] They're inventory slips. More of a vanity project than anything else, I suppose, and very dull to hear about. I assure you.

[ a chop of her hand through the air suggests he ought to think no more about them. the seat is better used for his haunches than for a box of lists. lists, lists, and more lists. funny how she'd often bemoaned all the filing she'd been asked to complete at the ssr, only to find that leadership is a good ninety-percent paperwork. ]

[edwinjarvis]

I suppose I can't complain, considering some of Mr. Stark's... more interesting piles of paperwork I've dealt with over the years.

[one time he had to sort through model headshots and put them in order of hair color from darkest to lightest]

Has your day gone relatively well, paperwork aside? I suggest visiting the Co'Kal if you haven't yet. Fascinating creatures.

[mucked]

It's been quiet. [ which is something she ought to feel grateful for, really, but she doesn't. the quiet doesn't agree with her. ] Still nothing on the comms -- nothing aside from the usual chatter, of course.

[ she continues to focus on those vegetables. saving the protein for last, perhaps? ]

[edwinjarvis]

Quiet for the most part I suppose...

[He considers the last few weeks and grimaces.]

I did have a... rather disturbing run-in with a mysterious super-powered glutton of sorts, though.

[mucked]

-- What happened?

[ she's all alert. prickled and sharp, again, after she'd been sitting almost docile over her plate of food. ]

[edwinjarvis]

A... well. I'm not sure if it was part of her... condition, or a glitch, but.

When I entered the kitchen, she was unhinging her mouth like a snake and eating what appeared to be a wrapped chicken whole. She couldn't seem to stop herself from eating as much as possible.

[mucked]

[ well! that's...alarming. on a number of fronts. and yet, the description doesn't deter peggy from enjoying her meal. not one bit. ]

Did she post any danger? To anyone aboard? Was the bizarre behaviour kept hedged in to foodstuffs?

[edwinjarvis]

You know, I'm not particularly sure what level of danger she was. I admit I was too busy being mortified; she did seem fairly desperate herself. [He considers for a moment.] Perhaps her power was that of... stretchiness. I imagine a normal human would have exploded.

[Jarvis apparently knows at this point that Peggy is impossible to deter from eating food, even with the conversation turning toward exploding people.]

... She did... grow her own tie, looking at mine.

[mucked]

Good Lord. [ a hard shake of her head. ] Of all the appendages to grow, she chose a tie?

[ that's a warning sign right there. surely. ]

[edwinjarvis]

She may have wanted to eat it. It is a nice shade of yellow, I suppose.

[He's wearing it right now, and he looks at it carefully, chin-to-chest.]

This fleet is compromised of many interesting and confounding characters.

[mucked]

Chalk full. [ she caves and reaches for her fork. ] Though I haven't run into this -- flexible one. Not yet.

[edwinjarvis]

I'll have to keep you update if I see her consuming an entire roast.

[HHAAAAA]

I did meet a lovely girl — Miss Pryde? She's able to walk on air and phase through solid objects. It's really a marvel, isn't it? And young Kubo, he controls paper of his own mental willpower. Quite a tricky child.

[mucked]

I've only met Miss Pryde the once -- at Halloween. [ a wry twist of her mouth. ] She went in costume. Dressed as Captain America.

[edwinjarvis]

... Iiii... see!

That must've been a bit awkward.

[He's imaginin' it.]

... But she is really quite lovely. The only concerning super-powered person I've met - this mysterious glutton notwithstanding - would probably be the, um... electric woman. Who has a very negative view of superheroes, it seems.

[mucked]

Negative. [ a pause. ] As in...villainous?

[edwinjarvis]

... Hard to say. Not... particularly alarming levels of villainy that I've seen. So far, with my limited interactions, she seems to be more of a hooligan with particularly concerning powers. I fear for anyone in the vicinity who enrages her, though.

And that seems... potentially easy to do.

[mucked]

Short-tempered. Volatile. Hooliganism. [ hmm! ] Did you catch a name?

[edwinjarvis]

No, unfortunately not. All I caught was...

[He does some finger-quotes in the air.]

"I'm basically pure energy, pops."

And then threatened to give a number of volts to anyone who messed with said energy.

[mucked]

-- And this is someone on the Tourist?

[edwinjarvis]

Oh heavens no, my crew has been a quite nice crew. If she were among them you wouldn't have heard the end of it.

... I've no idea where she went to. But hopefully she'll behave herself.

[mucked]

I'll try and hunt down a name -- something. See what can be done. [ ... ] She will come to rue the day she called Edwin Jarvis 'pops'.