Communication was imperfect at the best of times, and this was hardly that. Jarvis was wildly out of practice, for one. He couldn't recall the last conversation he'd had with anyone, but imagined it had been a rushed call for one of his parents or a useless railing against the Peacekeepers who'd caught up to them despite his father's better efforts. Crying, maybe (though he could still do that, only now it was messy and better kept silent because nothing was quite as awful as the sounds his mouth could make with no tongue to give them shape). Exchanges with the rest of the servants had been quick looks and sharp gestures, of which Jarvis had always been on the receiving end.
Social skills, as a result, were a stunted and confusing thing. He knew enough from watching parties from beneath his lashes, but couldn't imitate any of that here and now. It was the stuff of half-formed imaginings and muddled dreams, and here... here he had the lift of his brows and a little shake of his head to convey that Master Stark had missed his point.
At least he was making a reasonable leap. Jarvis didn't mind the misinterpretation, and he would rather the only other living person around didn't completely lose his mind. No telling where that would land the both of them, but he imagined it was nowhere good.
Then again, could it be worse than this? Not that this, in this room with a smile being slanted his way, was so bad.
Reevaluating, Jarvis cocked his head and gestured carefully in the other's direction, a point of a forefinger right at him and then that same tap against his head, followed by a shy smile. Sure, he could scribble out his message on the list he held, but this was... almost fun. Like a game.