No one looked at Jarvis. He'd already sunk to the lowest rung on the proverbial ladder, and indulging him as a person was against every rule that had been drummed into the citizenry that bumbled through their glittering, empty, useless lives. Provided he never stepped outside of those expectations, and no one else looked his way, he'd be able to live and die precisely as he existed now.
Which, to be honest, was a bleak opportunity at best. When death looked like a relief, was there anything left to lose? He had Tony, and even that wasn't a promise. The last generation of Starks should've been beyond threats, but they'd died in some fashion horrific enough to impact lives beyond theirs- to send Jarvis and his family running, and look how far they'd gotten.
"Unrest without focus is dangerous," Jarvis agreed, carefully collecting plates into a stack that he could almost balance against his chest. He paused, favoring Tony with a long, searching look. It wasn't often he tried to overtly direct the other man. Subtle gestures had been his only option for so long that it remained the easier route to take, and Tony didn't often respond in the most positive ways to direction or demand.
Not that Jarvis knew how to make demands. He'd never been the sort.
Clearing his throat, he leaned to replace a glass of water near Tony's elbow, free hand just as quick to withdraw to stabilize his dishes before anything could drop. "Perhaps if you were speaking the same language." Jarvis turned, moving back in the direction of the kitchen. "I think it likely you'd discover you have more in common than either of you are willing to see right now."