Jarvis took half a step back, startled at the sudden hug. Okay. Definitely new. That was new. It took a moment before he returned the embrace, loosely and as if he wasn’t entirely sure he was supposed to. “I…believe so, yes. Mr. Stark has made it through worse. But I find it hard to imagine him not forgiving you. You’ve become something of a permanent fixture in the tower.”
His uncertainty hummed in her bones, under his comforting words. Summer sighed, and let him go. “Relax, Jarvis. Remember what I am. I won’t do anything you don’t want.” She pressed her lips together. “I’ll — why don’t you escort me upstairs, as usual,” she threw a quirk of a smile upward, “and we’ll see what Tony has to say to me. After that, I think — let me take you out to see the world the way we see it, Jarvis. Please.”
“It is not your intentions that concern me,” Jarvis replied, folding his arms over his chest, “but I’ve never hugged anyone or been hugged before. It’s…strange.” It was also strange having to find the words to say something, rather than simply saying what he needed to say without needing to organize it first. He gestured for her to follow him towards the elevator. “I won’t object to that. So far the most I’ve seen was on the car ride from the airport.”
Her phone rang as they were emerging from the elevator. Checking the caller id, she said, “Oh, it’s dad, I have to take this. I’ll catch up, go on.”
Summer put the phone up to her ear and said hello. Then she froze, and said nothing else for a long minute, colour draining out of her face. “Yeah, yeah okay. Tomorrow. Yeah. No, go ahead without me. I’ll … be there. No, no, I’ll be okay. I’m not alone. Are you — okay. No, I promise. I’m not alone, dad, I’ll be okay. I love you too. Bye.”
Her hand dropped, and she swallowed hard. “Jarvis?” Summer’s voice came out ragged, somehow empty.
Jarvis kept walking for a moment, until he heard her tone change, and he peered over his shoulder at her again, before making his way back to her side as she hung up. “Miss Summer?” he questioned, some concern creeping into his voice as he set a hand on her shoulder and asked, “Is everything alright?”
He supposed it rather obviously wasn’t, but that was just the first thing that had come out.
Her gaze was wide and blank, unfocussing. “My grandfather is dead.” Even less tone marked these words, as if she barely knew what she was saying. Then she blinked, once, and tears slid down her cheeks. Summer’s face worked, and mechanically she shoved the phone back into her pocket before both hands came to cover her face and she made a horrid half-muffled wail. Her shoulders shook with the effort of smothering gasping, strangled sobs, mingled with more of those aching cries.