A/N: Another little Agent Carter fic! This one centering around Jarvis, and his connection to Peggy. He's an observant fellow. ;)

She is British—her exasperation is, therefore, quite nuanced.

He, too, is British—and he understands her subtlety.

She thinks the mission is important, and she is right. But the starching is also important, and the soufflé. The soufflé is Anna's favorite, and he just might let the world fall before it does.

Perhaps that is a stretch. He is a man used to managing his duty, and he does not often fail.

Not often.

Miss Carter can see this, he knows. Jarvis is a name that has become synonymous with reliability to her, as to others. As much as she scolds, she, too, must recognize that they work well together.

And she is not the only one who has learned something.

She does not speak of him, often—of the man with the shield, the hero. But her eyes tell stories, as do the twitch of her lips, stories that would be quite lost to someone who did not understand the importance of starching a collar correctly, or of coddling a soufflé.

He sees. He knows. A part of him longs to overstep the boundary, to try, in some way, to comfort. He cannot imagine life without Anna.

He would tell her, if she asked. How it feels to spend a thousand precious days with someone, to tidy the rose garden and press the curtains, to sit beside them on the piano bench and let the notes suffice for speech.

He would rather she didn't ask.

He would rather not torture her with what he has, for a part of him suspects Miss Carter would have all of it, if she still could.