Promises, promises. So many were largely meaningless. He'd heard more than a few, traded with quicksilver smiles and grandiose gestures, chased with a toast and an expensive glass of something that would still taste and smell like turpentine no matter how pricey. For all that Tony lied like he breathed sometimes, he'd never aimed that kind of insincerity at Jarvis. Or at least, he hadn't done it in so long that Jarvis couldn't remember the last instance of deception that was pointed his way. It had probably been incidental. Product of drink and habit, not really purposeful. Decidedly not malicious.
If Tony was promising him, Jarvis would take it as truth. He didn't need anything except the guarantee that Tony would do everything he could to prevent this from becoming a shared death sentence. And later, when he could think how best to phrase it, he would ask for a different guarantee: something to help him know, without having to count on anyone else, that he could be free. There was no one else he'd want to serve, anyway.
Too morbid for tonight, which was saying something. Jarvis took a careful breath, eyes closing for just a beat when fingers touched his jaw. For now, they were both alive and they had time to figure something out. Granted, that was mostly waiting for Tony to figure it out while keeping him sober and focused in the meantime, but that, Jarvis could do. He'd a lot of practice at it, and the routine would be a comfort. He did love his routines.
Eyes flickering open again, he tracked the other man around, gaze solemn. "Like you do now, you mean?" Jarvis questioned, dryly. Sighing, he shook his head and pushed upright. "I'll draw you a bath. No one does their best thinking when looking like they've just tumbled out of a bin."