"Perish the thought," came the response, accompanied by a long-suffering sigh that was nevertheless tinged with fondness. "The world cannot possibly handle that many of your images invading people's homes. It would be unsettling to the extreme, and that's before we get to how much dust you would acquire." He feigned a little shiver, as if he needed to convey his constant battle against the inevitable entropy that followed in Tony's wake- dust and rubble and grease stains, explosions that sometimes damaged more than pianos.
At least it gave him purpose. Tony was a genius who built genius things. Jarvis cleaned up after the process. So far, it was a system that worked, even with the occasional visitor that gave him reason to want to go crawl into a corner and never come out again.
That fucker was an excellent example. He never let Jarvis hide. Even when there had been other staff, somehow there had always been reason to involve him in running this errand or retrieving that thing; like he needed to visibly watch the results of his machinations spin out. It was repulsive.
Possibly Jarvis was biased. But with good reason.
He hummed, shaking his head. "You would never do that to me, I hope." Leave a mess in the floor. Jarvis couldn't handle it. He'd just stand around, staring at it and wringing his hands in dismay. It would be terrible... and though Tony inflicted that kind of action on other people just to watch them squirm, he'd never really done it to Jarvis. Poked a bit, sometimes, testing boundaries, but never gone out of his way to do anything that would inspire genuine distress of any variety.