driftfleet | Just Keeping Swimming

Once upon a time, maybe, but these days? [ peggy eyes him. ] Greens are as welcome as anything else. More so, maybe, for their rarity.

[ but instead of tempting fate she accepts the bowl and settles into it with considerable delight. with sounds like these, she doesn't need to actually tell him it's delicious. ]

... Foiled. Well, I suppose it beats scurvy.

[He places a freshly crisped bowl of salad beside her for the taking.

And a small plate of seasoned shrimp.

And a light drink.]

Not too fond of the selection of greens here, however. Kale is... not my favorite.

It is a bit on the bitter side, [ she allows. and yet spears a forkful all the same. peggy would never admit to it, of course, but she quite likes being cared for in this capacity. cool, efficient, and all the sentimentality hidden deep behind her fellow countryman's well-polished exterior. jarvis has a way of making her feel provided for without feeling undermined. it's important to her. he's important to her.

even when he's infuriatingly nosy. ]

But much like beggars, ship-guests can't be choosers.

Suppose not.

[He places lids and whatnot on the finished goods, for the crewmates to enjoy when they return from their usual business. It seems he's not going to be eating it, himself; no need, he's quite content. Actually, he's a biiiiit exhausted, and he finally lowers the usual maintained composure enough to sit heavily in one of the chairs.]

I'm sure I'll find something to do with it yet, that is more... flavorful.

Also, I recommend visiting the temples; quite an interesting collection of places.

[ -- the temples can wait. peggy's sharp eye catches contact with his and despite their last altercation, she doesn't shy away from being (well) pushy. ]

You're not eating?

Miss Carter, if I ate every time I prepared food, I would be most unhealthy.

And I ate recently enough, actually.

[He rubs his hands on his apron, pausing.]

I've been working at the refugee camps; they've been very hospitable.

[ -- she frowns. it comes to her attention (a little too sharply) that she's never really shared a meal with mister jarvis. back home, that never seemed to matter. they partnered up, they worked together, but it had never been the sort of partnership that demanded they break bread together. her time in the fleet has made her value that sort of exchange much more dearly. and she makes a mental note to see it done. in time. ]

I take it the illness is the same we heard about back in the last system -- afflicting their migrant population on the ring?

[Good luck trying to drag him out of butler-mode long enough to sit and have that meal. He's gotten so used to being on the go and eating here and there, even Ana has to sometimes pull him aside when he gets going a bit too speedily. As it is, he mostly just has meals with Ana, thanks to her mother henning. It's good to put some time aside for oneself -- but he's not doing that today! Maybe tomorrow.]

Correct. They're low on nurses to help the doctors, so I've been performing little things there and there, fetching things, helping with things they can't really afford to dwell on. [Like things for the children. His heart shatters for them; they've lost so much, had to leave their things behind. He wants to do right by the people.] It's dreadful, what's happening... If I'm to be carted around space against my will, it's good to offer aid to those less fortunate.

A noble pursuit. [ and she means it, despite the incongruity of spooning soup past her lips in the short breath after voicing her otherwise muted admiration. peggy carter doesn't gush, but she does express what deserves expression. edwin jarvis, however idealistic in some of his approaches, is a decent man. no -- better than decent. good.

she'll never forget the day he handed her the vial of steve's blood, and the quiet implication of what it meant that he should have taken it from howard in order to return it to her. ]

Is there any way in which I can help?

If you would like to — they could always use a helping hand.

[He of course isn't including himself; he's very good at helping himself!]

I'm... currently trying to figure out a way to make books plausible in the water. Children's books! Those poor kids at the camps need good literature, you know. Or perhaps something for their mothers! They must be exhausted enough dealing with the ailments, let alone with children.

Books might be impossible. [ she's thoughtful, now. and despite her casual posture while she eats, there's no doubting her commitment to the conundrum. ] But they like music. They like it very much. Some sort of ballad or oral tradition might suit them well.

[He hums.]

There's no such thing as impossible, when it comes to a spark of creativity!

[... But he'll need to think on that for a while.

He flusters slightly, just slightly, otherwise is quite pokerfaced.]

... I'm certainly no singer.

And I never could carry a tune. [ -- where's angie when you need her? ] But if you provide the text, I don't doubt you could partner with someone in the fleet who can.

Much appreciated, Miss Carter.

[A little smile, short but not unkind.

He's actually sitting and looking a bit sleepy, now. A slow whirring down of the robo-butler, it seems, because he's been going, going, going. Pretty sure he's been going since the moment he was designated a ship.

But he doesn't want to be rude to Miss Carter, so he will resist.

Like someone trying to not pass out in morning class.]

We've quite a group of talented people here! Mr. Rogers among them. And Kubo! So talented at paper crafts. I've never had much of an artistic flair; that's more along Ana's forte.

-- Steve's always been a dab hand with a sketchpad, yes. [ she clears her throat. ] Another detail lost to the sound and fury of the propaganda machine.

[ peggy spoons the last few mouthfuls from her bowl. the salad, by contrast, will be a quicker eat. ]

The damnable machine.

[He agrees. He's fortunate to have evaded it well enough, thanks to being around Howard. Howard really did love Steve quite a lot; it makes for more genuine stories, more genuine answers.]

But very admirable, to take lines and find people, with them. Places.

[A yawn into his sleeve.]

I bet he's already taken to drawing you.

[ a look. peggy finds herself at a loss for where to even begin her response. clearly, mister jarvis's decorum is slipping because of his exhausted state. even so, she can't quite forgive yet another intrusion into private territory.

she hoovers another mouthful of salad before countering: ] I have no idea what you're suggesting, Mister Jarvis. Really.

[ but it's a little too forceful. ]

[He sighs, leaning against his hand, elbow on the table.

And perhaps his weariness isn't solely from being tired, when he speaks.]

It was an innocent question, Miss Carter.

... Ana's attempted to draw me plentifully; my nose never looks right.

[ clearly, no question is ever really innocent when it delves into her personal relationship with steve. although most of her pique is a hanger-on from the very charged (and very new) association made with steve, his sketchpad, and the prospect of her as his subject. though back in the last system, he never did get around to drawing her... ]

I'm amazed she gets you to sit still long enough to draw you in the first place.

[ but just to talk about jarvis and his ana, really. a safer subject. ]

[Jarvis has plenty of things he'd love to prod Peggy for -- her lockbox of a heart, her terrible deflecting into safer territory, her godawful method of talking about others but not herself, not ever so personally, like an unfair safe with a dynamite stick trap beyond a complicated ten-number lock -- but he thinks of that last terrible conversation, the way she had so promptly shut him down. Now he's really not sure when he's supposed to tell her his opinions; it is safer to just play the butler here, and it's a bit aching to think. He could use someone to fill the silence left now that he's without Ana. Perhaps it's impossible. And perhaps he was... foolish to think Miss Carter was ever someone to exchange that sort of quiet companionship.

They're co-workers as best. He's the butler at worst.

He suddenly feels so very unsure of his place here. More than ever.

He wishes they could go on an adventure together, so he could come home to Ana and tell her all of the things rattling around in his head.]

Like the quiet frustration he has with Miss Carter sometimes, when she elects to just talk about him.]

I am more than patient and accommodating when it comes to her pastimes. It would be a shame if she grew rusty on my account.

[He motions to her used dishes, beckoning to take them.

Being a butler is just easier, sometimes, especially in the wake of silly silly thoughts. He will create his own lockbox. He will be the most pleasant!

No more mistakes tonight, Mr. Jarvis, it's not good for your resume.]

Would you like anything else?

You've already done more than enough. [ her voice betrays a rare uncertainty -- as though she knows something's amiss, but she can't quite press her thumb to it. at no point does she guess near the heart of the matter, having never once assumed her distance should pain him. it had been one thing, back in new york, to concede that she might need his support in the field. quite another to imagine she might need it anywhere else. even most of their more sentimental moments had been spent back-to-back. booth-to-booth, at the automat.

she pushes her plate towards him. happy, it seems, to let him take that responsibility. ] I should hope your ship-mates don't feel cheated out of their leftovers because you keep feeding the captain of a different vessel.

[He smiles a bit as he places the dishes in the sink, towel over an arm.]

Not at all, Miss Carter. I'm always happy to serve.

[But his heart is not particularly in it, when he says it.

Quite unusual, he thinks. It leaves a small bite of uncertainty in his work ethic.]

I... hate to be a poor houseguest -- [Jarvis you live on this ship.] -- but I'm a bit dead on my feet. Perhaps a nap is in order.

[... oh, but there are dishes in the sink.

He looks at them critically.]

... After dishes. Yes.

Sod the nap. [ she dabs the corners of her mouth with a napkin and finds her feet. ] Get a whole night's sleep.

[ peggy unbuttons the cuffs on her sleeves and pushes the blouse's stiff cloth up her arms -- all the way to her elbows. ] Let me.

[ she can't be the emotional connection he craves -- that much is obvious. but she can nudge him firmly away from the sink and take ownership of the mess she's made. just tonight. ]

[He just stands there at first with mouth slightly open, a confused creature.]

I - I assure you, that's not necessary. I'm sure you have more pressing matters.

I would hate to get... shabby.

(no subject)

mucked - 2017-03-13 15:10 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

edwinjarvis - 2017-03-13 15:16 (UTC) - Expand

Just Keeping Swimming | March Planet Mingle

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)