Rogers whipped around, and Tony all but shrank. Maybe there was something like scolding in Jarvis' voice, but it wasn't the tone or the critique that made his shoulders curl in a little - that took a hell of a lot more than tartness and a fair point, after all these years - it was just the last shreds of his own fearful resistance. There was something in his posture of the boy who very much did not want to jump off the dock, but had just watched his friend go galloping right over the edge and into the water: small, wavering, and unhappy with himself. He clutched his drink and stared right past Rogers' straight-backed shock and looked at Jarvis like he was a twenty-foot drop into a lake.
Of course, anyone who knew him knew the choice he'd make between dry land and a cannonball. The only thing that might have swayed him in the other direction had just gone in with a splash. So that was that. The incentives had shifted. Good idea or bad - he wasn't stalling anymore.
"I'm bringing the brains to the operation, remember?" He straightened consciously, although his reasons for putting on a show here were fast diminishing. That bit of warning in Jarvis' face might have had a slightly sharper effect than usual, because as he took a few slow steps across the room (positioning himself between them, without entirely realizing what he was doing) the glass in his hand never quite made the journey back to his mouth. He didn't look thrilled, but there was no surprise or anger in his face. It was just dread and fatigue, the same as he'd been carrying the moment Rogers had arrived - plus the very new, very prominent discomfort at speaking like this when there was someone else in the room. He did not like that. It had the curious effect of making him extremely reluctant to look at Rogers at all. "This whole thing could use a little re-thinking."
In his head, he was already walking back his extremely moderate advice: it wouldn't have to take years, in some cases passion could be substituted for numbers, just because favorable sentiment didn't exist didn't mean it couldn't be incited, he was excellent at inciting things and so was Rogers, working together they could probably burn down the entire country without even breaking a sweat - but there was a more immediately pressing concern here. There were some terms to set down in stone well before they so much as thought about anything like strategy.
He turned - he practically had to force himself - to face Rogers, raising his eyes to his face with what he hoped was more flint than the panicked, tightening feeling his chest, like the pinch of dismay in the instant before something slipped out of you hands. If any of his fear bubbled up through the cracks, it would only wind up looking like anger, and he didn't want that. Not with their history. "And as far as you know: he can't." He left off the and if you tell anyone, I'll cut your fucking tongue out and choke you with it out of sensitivity to the present company and the present mission, but - no doubt it would come up later.