Correction, no. Jarvis wouldn't know where to begin with that kind of thing, and attempting a reprimand would shove him violently into abject horror- maybe even panic, the rabbit-fast lurch of a heart that wasn't built for bravery. It was one thing to indulge this little rebellion, to sit and look in Master Stark's direction, to respond when he spoke as if they were at all on equal footing, but another thing entirely to insult, correct, or offend.
Had he? Maybe he should've agreed, stuck with bobbing his head and playing along. But wasn't that as insulting? Clearly the other wanted interaction if he'd come looking for Jarvis, and what he wanted had to be more than mindless affirmation and an empty smile.
Jarvis couldn't get too caught up in thinking about all the angles. Really, he was caught by watching the other work through his limited ability to communicate, the near-visible way options were examined, discarded, and finally selected to be given voice. It was impossible not to grin when Master Stark finally lit on the answer, and he was close enough to right for Jarvis to nod- a quick jerk of his chin and a tap on his nose, and hopefully that was enough to confirm that, yes, Master Stark was too smart to get caught up in the endless cycle of Gamemaking drudgery that went on year after year. The faces didn't change. The goal never deviated. Even creativity hit a rut because how many ways could one really go about... that business.