Open Log | Butler Blues | July Catch-all

[edwinjarvis]

Who: Jarvis and you
Broadcast: N/A
Action: The Melting Pot bistro (Iskaulit), SS Tourist,
When: July 9th and onward; potentially a catch-all for the month! Find him in The Melting Pot (on the Iskaulit), etc. anytime during this, or let me know if you have a wildcard or something closed you want done. Warning for a particularly depressing butler this month, since the calibrations were paaarticularly rough on him.

Jarvis has been incredibly scarce during the last few weeks of the calibrations. You'd damn near have to actually go check on him to make sure he's still around — but he's around. He's learned things, terrible things about the future... and what has happened in the past, and he found it more socially acceptable to shed his upset tears in the quiet of his own room, alone and aptly quieted by his own hands. He tries to find the logic in it all; Bucky was not himself, not really, right? It stands to reason it's not his fault, and yet — it doesn't change who did the deed, who had hurt the people he cared about deeply.

He's not sure what to do. What to say... Especially to Miss Carter.

And when the calibrations end, he goes right back to work at The Melting Pot. Regardless of the turmoil stirring his mind and stomach, he can't just... fade off. Life must surely go on, even with terrible revelations and more terrible nightmares (and lord, he can't stop having those dreams, dreams of absolutely helplessness and uselessness; or even more, when he dreams he's trapped in the snow, killing children with his bare hands, wrapping his hands around Natasha's throat for some blasted coat—). He straightens his tie and moves on to work with that slight smile and his carefully maintained appearances. He goes to the gym on the Iskaulit and trains. He works on the garden. He makes sure Mr. Hunter gets his lessons. He makes sure, despite his great anxiety, to bring Miss Carter treats. The staff at the bistro need to have someone there to help with complete focus!

His job is to be helpful and keep others afloat. Not himself.

So he will simply... deal with it. It's really the slightest of changes, one perceived only by those really looking at the man. He looks a bit more tired, the lines of his eyes a bit more ingrained. He seems distant, when he's on his own in the kitchen. Aboard the Tourist, he seems more likely to retire earlier to his room (and yes, the liquor so kindly bestowed by the Atroma is already gone, thank you). Sometimes, he lies through his teeth, and that hand twitches to almost fidget at his ear; a bad habit Miss Carter's already warned him of, one he doesn't want to give him away. And certainly, if the topic of Mr. Barnes arises, or he's faced with the potential of running into him, he'll be quick to find a reason to see himself out or away.

Little things, here and there, that put a crack in his foundation.

Indeed, he's having a hard time making due with what the event had given him. Paranoia, anxiety — it creeps on the edges of his thoughts, so he cooks something lovely for the Tourist crew and puts it out. A serving of cookies here, a little jello salad with fruit harvested from the garden there. Good god, Edwin, he thinks. Snap out of it. Clearly it's nothing nearly so troubling for you, compared to those who endured it.

He's a bit spiteful towards himself. It'll do no one any good, but he is, because he's had so little in his life to be upset over in comparison. His life hasn't been tormented so thoroughly as the lives of those like Mr. Fenris, once a slave, gaining his revenge with his blade through his master's throat.

.... Working seems better. Working keeps him occupied.

So work he shall. Work, work, work. Checking wristwatches and moving onto the next thing to do with that slight smile, keeping track of precious hours, buying as many supplies as he can on way-stations. He's getting rather good at it, the longer he does it... this whole 'pretending' thing. Sometimes he can even shake it off for some friendly conversation, and he values any distraction. The shadow looms, though, ever present, and he more than once nearly calls Bucky to ask him — what was in that car, that was so worth their lives?

And why did Miss Carter nearly end up a victim herself?

What a revolving door he's got himself into.

Such an awful thing to know.

How does he tell her?

When?

Comments

action. mid july.

[mucked]

[ she knows -- roughly -- when to expect his visits. ever since they'd returned from the marsiva, there's been a new kind of predictability to the moments when mister jarvis would stop by and bring her some small snack or thoughtful meal. doesn't matter that the ship has its own cook (still); the man is reliable as all get-out.

and reliable in other ways, too. like how she can tell there's something bothering him just beneath his silvered polish -- he may not touch his ear, but she knows. today, peggy waits in the cargo bay -- she doesn't stray off the ship for long or for far, but she at least feels no panic being around the starstruck. she trusts that when steve wakes up, he'll make himself known.

when jarvis arrives, fresh offerings in hand, she pulls herself up from where she'd been leaning against a wall. ]

Like clockwork. If I had one, Mister Jarvis, I could set my watch to you.

[edwinjarvis]

[Jarvis takes her appearance (lurking in wait, Miss Carter?) in stride, standing with usual stiff demeanor to hold out the plate he has wrapped. As good as Rip's progress will certainly be, he certainly wants to make sure Peggy is as quick to inhale food as ever, what with Steve being out. It's just some things off the menu of the bistro, but it's prepared with care.

He gives her a Look.]

I am a man on a tight schedule of course, and you know my addiction to schedules. [He immediately turns the focus inward while not particularly meaning to, expression softening as he looks toward the main body of the ship. As if he can even see Steve through it.]

Sleeping still?

It's never pleasant when people suddenly drop into these ridiculous slumbers.

[mucked]

[ she curls her grip around the plate's edge before steadying its rim against her rib cage. like hugging the plate to herself, gingerly and with a downcast look as though she might be curious as to the delivery's contents. but she'd much rather keep the brunt of her attention on him.

peggy takes in a small breath when jarvis asks. ]

I'm afraid so. There's been no change. I only hope it's one of those 'ridiculous slumbers' you've so aptly named.

[ and not some complication from being beamed back aboard after the marsiva. it's a concern she's voiced more than once between the pair of them. she'd first brought the worry up like an idle thought, like a theory mentioned in passing during a late-night car ride while trying to work through a problem from back home.

in a way, she'd been confiding her worries in him. ]

[edwinjarvis]

[Well, far be it for him to let her worry without a helpful word or two, to try and ease that feeling.]

I'm sure it must be so. After all, we've yet to see other reasons for these sorts of spells, haven't we?

Captain Rogers would surely not want you to worry yourself too much on his behalf... however impossible that may be.

[mucked]

[ she worries her bottom lip for a moment. everything that's happened -- every terrible trip through her dreams -- has only reinforced her duty to safeguard a little of that goodness what's left in the world. left, and wrapped up in steve.

coolly: ] Yes. Well. Steve doesn't always know what's best. Impossible or otherwise.

Melting Pot - Mid July

[outstandingbalance]

[It's about a week after calibrations are over that Natasha stops shying away from people on the whole and starts returning to her normal haunts. At first it's the easier locales, the gym, the firing range, but as the drift continues and she finds her footing she'll tentatively return to making social calls as well.

The Melting Pot is on that list. It's not even that she thinks Jarvis will be especially difficult. If she'd had illusions that he was delicate before, those were banished now. But he is still a good person, and the kind of person who might pity her... and it takes a little while before she's ready to face that possibility.

When she is, she orders the goulash because she could use something warm, and asks whoever's waiting tables today to tell Jarvis hi for her, if he's in.

If he wants to keep on avoiding her, well, she leaves that option open.]

[edwinjarvis]

[He's not trying to avoid her — well no, he is, but it's certainly not out of anything she did wrong. He'd been limiting his time with Miss Carter, too, admittedly. Just... reminders of things, guilt, all of that, it makes him have a difficult time facing the people he should. But maybe today is the today he shapes up a bit. He hardly wants to be rude; he quite likes her, even if... her past is very concerning and traumatic and rife with child death.

So he smiles a bit at her as he steps out, even if he looks a bit worn.

Busy bee, this guy.]

Miss Romanoff, hello.

Are you doing alright?

[outstandingbalance]

[He might not have been avoiding her (or he might have), but she was avoiding him. Nothing personal, really. She just needed some time.

She hopes it'll be mutual.]

Hey, Jarvis.

[Natasha considers answering, but in the end, she just shrugs. Who knows? She'll live.]

How's business?

[edwinjarvis]

[He clasps his hands, looking about the place; it's never too busy, never too empty. That's sort of the nice thing about it, most days. But lately, he's wished more people would eat up the whole kitchen. Make him really work, hard enough that he's stressed out. Stressing over feeding people is better than stressing over literally anything else going on right now.]

I don't foresee us closing down anytime soon, as far as I know.

[He smiles mildly.]

There has been a rather... complicated aura about the fleet this week, of course.

[outstandingbalance]

There is. I think it'll pass, though. It's been sort of a rough couple of months.

[Between the failed heist, apparent mass departures and then calibrations, it wasn't a surprise people were a little tense.]

I think we'll all survive it.

Melting pot

[servantnotserving]

[If there's one person in the Fleet who understands keeping other people afloat when his world is turning to crap, it's Lumière. Maybe they'll somehow cancel each other out, who knows?! Regardless, Lumière watches Jarvis going about his business and eventually hops over, concerned. ]

I may be wrong, mon ami, but perhaps it would be wise to take a small break?

[Please sit down for five minutes you're gonna give him an aneurysm. ]

[edwinjarvis]

[He wipes his hands on his apron, frowning over to the candelabra.]

I'm very much alright, Mr. Lumière! I took a small break a few hours ago.

... I think...

[Jarvis, if you have to think on it, it's probably not a fact.]

[servantnotserving]

[Jarvis, don't you try to bullshit the candelabra. He's small, he's largely innocuous, he sees everything. ]

Are you certain about that? I don't remember seeing you stop for quite some time.

[B| Because you DIDN'T]

[edwinjarvis]

... Well, that's...

You don't stop for quite some time, either.

[NAILED THE COMEBACK.]

[servantnotserving]

[Bitch, please. ]

I am made of brass and wax, mon ami, I do not need to rest. You, on the other hand, are not- and do.

Tourist

[wolfuncaged]

[Fenris has largely been playing the avoiding game after Calibrations. He has no shame for his past, but it's not something he particularly likes to speak about when it's not on his terms, either. So, he's gone back to his old days of lurking around the Tourist like a shadow.

He has to eat eventually, though, and it's on a trip to the kitchen that he comes across Jarvis, stress-cooking. The elf exhales slowly, moving to take a seat, well, he's not going to just walk out- he wants to at least attempt not to be an asshole about this. ]

How are you feeling?

[edwinjarvis]

[Stress-cooking is the best option, Fenris, don't you sigh slowly at him.]

I'm doing quite alright, Mr. Fenris; how're you doing?

[He hasn't been outright asking about the calibrations... but he's been trying to at least keep an eye on everyone. Fenris lurking in the shadows is quite alright, as long as he's safe and eating and sleeping. There's nothing wrong on Jarvis' end. He's totally fine. It's everyone else who needs watchful eyes and care, yes. Absolutely. There's no other possibility, he is sure of it.]

It's been a strange thing, settling back into normal fleet life, hasn't it?

[wolfuncaged]

I am as well as can be expected. Those were not my first calibrations, and I doubt they will be my last.

[Atroma's hit him with this bullshit once already. He really doesn't care for it, but he at least knew what to expect.]

Hm. I am glad to have things back to normal, again. I do not like staying on the Marsiva.

[edwinjarvis]

... When you put it like that, I'm daunted by the potential of another.

[He frowns, but he tries not to let it eat at him too much.]

Back to normal is much more preferable.

[wolfuncaged]

You learn to deal with them better, the second time around. It's still rather...invasive, though.

I couldn't agree more on that.

action

[directed]

[While their first lesson had some noticeable bumps along the way, when Rip shows up at the Melting Pot for his lessons after calibrations, he seems a bit more—not eager, exactly. But there is a willingness that had previously gone unseen present now, which might be a bit odd given what they've all just been through. Like so many, Rip carries the weight of secrets revealed, both his own and those of others, all of whom never wished for such things to be known.

It's a bit different than learning about such things through the course of history—but that seems to be how things go for him. Some experience or bit of technology is almost like what he knows from home, but ultimately off in some fundamental way.

Still, he's got reason to take those cooking lessons a bit closer to heart now regardless. It's one thing cooking for a bunch of strangers he happens to share a ship with, and entirely another to realize he'll likely be doing it for someone he cares a great deal for soon. The one bright spot in all of this is Gideon's presence among the fleet. However odd her current state, she's still absolutely the being Rip has come to know and trust and cherish over their time together.

So the least he can do is figure out how to cook a decent meal for her.]

Afternoon, Mr. Jarvis. [He's a bit quicker to get the man's attention this time, walking up to him when it's near their time to meet.] I hope you're well.

action

[edwinjarvis]

[Jarvis hasn't exactly called off cooking lessons, nor does he necessarily plan to — but there is a bit more caution in his approach now. Out of Rip's knowledge, of course, but it's primarily making sure he's not completely alone with him; he doesn't know him too well yet, after all, and Miss Carter had said some concerning things on top of Jarvis' already frayed nerves. After what happened with Mr. Barnes... And the things he'd seen in general. Lord. It's been rough.

But he puts on a professional air. The other workers are hustling about, and Jarvis is relatively at ease with this in mind; he gives a nod and smiles slightly, that usual sort of stern but friendly way. He looks a bit tired, more than he should, more than usual, but he's ready to continue on with the desserts lessons.]

Mr. Hunter — it's been quite a month, hasn't it?

Let's get right to work.

Re: action

[directed]

[Rip's tenure as captain of an actual crew had often been a flawed one. His focus had been geared towards the mission, accomplishing ends according to particular means, and so often disregarding the human factor both of his team and of whatever situation they faced.

But he hadn't been entirely unobservant, either then or now. Professional though he may be, Jarvis doesn't seem to carry quite the same amount of enthusiasm Rip knows him to possess. It's hard to hide exhaustion, and more: he rather neatly skirts Rip's indirect way of asking after him.

It's been quite a month, indeed.]

So it has. [He looks at the man carefully, considering. He doesn't remember Jarvis being within his own calibrations, but Rip can't accept that assumption on it's face. What he remembers about the adventures of others through his memories has been scarce at best; uncommon, from what he's heard from others in the Fleet, and unfortunate, but his burden to bear none the less.

Along with the reactions of those he knows after they learned some of his formerly well-kept secrets.]

I'm ready to proceed when you are. [Rip appreciates the man not wanting to talk about it; normally Rip wouldn't either. But it's difficult to leave absolutely everything unsaid when Rip cannot be certain of what Jarvis has learned--potential snippets of time, taken without their full context (and often no less horrible even in their proper framework.)

So he offers curiosity wrapped in the trappings of concern:] But only if you're sure you're up for it.

action

[edwinjarvis]

Excellent.

[Honestly, he's just relieved to have something to focus on, outside of his own terrible thoughts.]

And I haven't a clue what you mean; I'm always 'up for it'.

Shall we try miniature pies today?

Re: action

[directed]

[Jarvis takes neither the direct opportunity to abandon today's lesson, nor the unspoken offer made to listen should he wish to talk. Instead, he presses forward—and really, Rip does find it an admirable trait.]

I should never doubt it, Mr. Jarvis. [He offers the encouragement with a light grin, there and gone quick as a blink. What lasts longer is his interest in the topic of today; miniature pies, and as Rip pulls his notebook and pen from his jacket, he glances over towards the other man.]

That wouldn't include mince pies, would it? [Here he is, the man once so dangerously compromised, now trying not to sound too hopeful over something he's always seen as a treat.]