Natasha's skills were nothing Jarvis wanted to have an opinion on because, frankly, his goal was generally to stay out of the line of sight (and thus, the immediate, conscious observance) of people likely to end up in the president's bed. Assuming she could handle herself was one thing. Trusting that she'd extend self-preservation skills to also cover Tony was another thing entirely, and Jarvis had exactly enough trust to extend to one person. Even Clint earned the occasional wary side-eye. "If you sneak around properly, she shouldn't find out at all," he pointed out, voice pitched as flat and dry as he could coax the synthesizer to produce. "At least not until we've solid plans and the hopes of not getting everyone killed in the initial phases of gathering information."
Plans were the goal right now, not warning anyone that plans were underway. That seemed like a good way to expose them all as traitors, which was a good way for their small, ill-prepared little group to get very, very dead. It wouldn't even be difficult. Tony was sick. Jarvis wasn't actually a person, which meant disposing of him was about as difficult as throwing away a faulty appliance. Steve was already going the right way for an accident. They had to be smarter than good intentions would dictate.
Rolling his eyes, he leaned to top off Tony's juice. "You've been lobbying for 'Edward' for at least fifteen years. It's no more subtle now than it was then." Communication probably ought to be one of those things Tony looked at, for the sake of privacy if nothing else. Jarvis only rarely attempted to communicate outside of the home for fear that he'd be discovered. Surely he wasn't the only one that worried about that.
Then again, there was little he didn't worry about at some point. Living with Tony was an exercise in discovering new and exciting ways to fret.