Timetables were always a variable thing in the Stark household. Jarvis had long ago learned that if Tony was expected back at seven, he'd show up at ten instead. The following day. Intoxicated, with an entourage in tow, and ready to restart the party without a word of warning to the people responsible for preparing the necessary hors d'oeuvres for such festivities. Such was life, and Jarvis could generally adapt to the usual brand of carelessness Tony seemed to wear like a second skin.
Early was always a bad sign, where late meant acceptable, manageable trouble. Early meant sickness or injury, some kind of self-destruction that needed more than the standard application of disapproving looks and harried production of cocktails.
Anyway, in this case, Tony had clearly imbibed enough alcohol to keep him nearly insensate, which meant Jarvis didn't have to get right to mixing. Instead he poured his wayward owner into the transport home and gritted his teeth through a few nearly incomprehensible explanations- Natasha's name featured prominently, along with something that might've been an apology, but Jarvis rarely put stock in drunken sorries. Tony never remembered giving them out in the first place, and that fairly undermined the sincerity behind them.
He spent Tony's recovery period cooking. It was soothing and orderly, and it wasn't as if the food would go to waste. Soups and bland pastries were going to be necessities for a few days, and it meant that as soon as Tony decided he would at least attempt picking at food, Jarvis could provide. He liked to stay ahead of the easy demands, because inevitably there were bigger problems to be managed than Tony's dietary needs.
Seated in a flanking chair, a glass of water in hand- someone ought to be drinking it, though the juice would help something, he hoped- Jarvis fixed the other man with a droll, thoroughly unimpressed look. It was all in the eyebrows. He'd years of practicing it. "You <>had</i> to tell Natasha," he repeated, as if hoping he'd misheard. Natasha wouldn't have been his first choice in sharing this plan. She was too entrenched in her role, and spent far too much time with men that would be happy to see Tony crawl. Or worse. "Why did you have to tell Natasha?"