Even for Tony, who until half a second ago would certainly have maintained he wanted a response, the sound (and it wasn't much more than a breath, was it?) was jarring - unexpected enough that he looked up at him abruptly, his expression sharper than anyone in Jarvis's position would probably have liked. He was only surprised, but of course there was a tinge of the illicit on all of this; and it turned startled for one brief moment into suspicious.
But Jarvis's reaction cut through that pretty quickly. It wasn't really open to interpretation - Tony didn't have any particular experience with what an Avox saw before he was placed, or in a house where he wasn't largely ignored by an absentee master, or even just with more general instances of violence and coercion, but ... fear was fear. It wasn't hard to read. And it evoked the faintest, the most inchoate, the just emergent beginnings of the idea that that feeling wasn't something he very much cared to provoke. Of course he should have realized that that was all he provoked, in all likelihood, when it came to his household. It would undoubtedly be kinder not to talk to Jarvis at all. They could avoid one another easily enough - which was obvious, considering how well they'd managed for the past several weeks. Tony could leave him in peace, if he wanted.
But it was just as obvious to him that he wasn't going to do that, either. It was not, to say the least, his style.
So, a few moments too late to be anything but awkward, he smiled again, in what he thought of as a reassuring way (but which came not at all naturally to him and was therefore unfortunately rather shark-like). His voice, at least, was soft, a little slurred with his attempt at nonchalance. "You're all right." He glanced suddenly down at the peel in his hand, and leaned to hand it over the counter. "Here - you can throw that away. Is there anything to eat?" He didn't want it, but it seemed like the best change of subject. "I think I missed dinner. And probably lunch."