stefanged | Drift Fleet

[Jarvis stares for a long moment at the feed, awed by it and almost forgetting he's in a room with Stefan. "And -- who do I have to kill to get an engineer on board? Because this would all be a hell of a lot easier if I had what Atroma considered an engineer on board." Lord in heaven, he is a clear-cut Stark if there ever was one. This is the person who makes an AI based off him? The one he'll watch grow up, even. It's so utterly foreign and bizarre. Howard's son. He hopes he's doing alright, wherever he is.

He hopes good things come to him; he seems too much like his father, that maybe all the tragic traits may pass, and the thought of Howard sitting with a bottle of whiskey and his head in his palm — the days after Fennoff — is a terrible sight he wishes he didn't have to see.

He clears his throat, blinking back into reality.]

It's awfully Stark-ish of him, all of this. Verily.

... I know it's... rather ridiculous, but I've been worrying about him, and he hasn't even been thought of yet in my world.

[He pats a hand over the phone, slides it back over as he looks thoughtfully at the counter top.

He thinks of Mr. Rogers, so unsure of home and what's happening there, or of Howard's gnawing guilt and desire to make his legacy better than his old inventions, or Miss Carter, who is practically a masochist in overbooking herself and rushing to danger headlong.]

... Perhaps that's just my nature in the household, these days. But I'm around a bunch of heroes in their own little stories, and they're always exhausting themselves with such enormous responsibilities... The moment I heard he was a superhero of sorts, I fretted by virtue of knowing how such a mindset works.

[Stefan imagines that he would've reacted the same way, had someone told him that his brother - or hell, maybe Caroline - had been part of the Fleet. That they'd left broadcasts on the network for everyone to witness.

He accepts his phone quietly, with newfound reverence. He can't imagine it must've been easy to watch.]

It's not ridiculous at all. [Stefan shakes his head, though his smile softens considerably.] You love these people, and when you love them, you'll do anything to make sure they're safe.

I uh, I used to live with a superhero myself. It wasn't easy, waiting and wondering if he'd come back safe and sound, but...

[He pauses,] Because you're there? I think it's easier for Peggy or Steve to rest easy at night.

[He chuckles, amused.]

I hope that's the case. I always worry there'll be a time I'm not there when needed.

I can think of nothing worse than losing someone because you were just out of reach [He shakes his head.] But — I think... I'm thinking a little too highly of myself, really. Miss Carter will be alright. She has people far more qualified than me to help her.

[He's no superhero, or a Steve Rogers.]

... They can't make a decent souffle, though.

Edited 2017-03-01 06:31 (UTC)

Honestly, I can't think of anyone more qualified than you.

[Every superhero needs someone to support them from the sidelines. This, Stefan knows well. He's lost count of how often he mended clothes or packed lunches or kept his Phantom safe - and that was all in a big brother capacity, rather than being an actual legal guardian.]

[Teasingly:] Especially if you can make souffle. Were you holding out on me, Mr. Jarvis?

[He smiles a bit, brightened by Stefan's words.]

Not intentionally, my apologies.

[But he appreciates what he's said; it gives him some hope, that he's doing something right. He still doesn't fancy himself in the same league as a hero or super soldier, but it's... something. He can provide nourishment, and that is something. It certainly is.]

Finding the right ingredients here takes a little too much time, if you ask me.

That is the trouble with outer space. Infinite galaxies, very finite ingredients.

[He shakes his head fondly, almost as if he were chiding Atroma for their poor life choices.]

If you ever do, my kitchens - both of them - are always open.

[Ahh. Such good nature.]

Dare I say, you're the nicest vampire I've ever met.

[And the only one, which is why he's teasing it now.]

But likewise — if you need anything at all, do feel free to message me.

I would be ready to assist at a moment's notice, Mr. Salvatore.

You're way too kind, Mr. Jarvis.

[For offering his help or for accepting Stefan, fangs and all? He's not sure, but it's probably a combination of the two as he picks up his mug again and holds it up in a silent toast. To good coworkers and hopefully even better friends.]

[Oh, shucks, hush you.

But he offers a smile in return, toasting right back.

See now, no murderous vampires in this ship.

Life is good.]

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