#origiiinal

        ❝ —-you should not take that tone, master anthony. it could have very         well been your father standing here, and no young man should curse         at his parents. ❞

(  kicks her feet up on his lap.  )

‘  how’s it goin’, stud?

                                     MEME; HOW’S MY PORTRAYAL

          the interface returns with much hesitance, and j.a.r.v.i.s. feels the awareness filtering back in like thin light through opening blinds; it comes to his attention that the expanse of his system has diminished significantly, and the constrictive feeling acts reminiscently of an alert -- -- -- the blue lights blink to life, whirring mechanically. the color, similar to an absent centerpiece, glistened against the portion of red and gold metal, now charred with a blackened dust. they lie bleakly amongst burnt flowers and broken branches, a backyard of somewhere he cannot identify : an internet connection cannot be made nor found; a subtle radiance emits, in an attempt to find the usual satellite. as the processes continue ( significantly slower than usual ), the voice -- mechanical -- breaks silence. 

‘                   master stark -- -- -- can you hear me ? ` 

                                  radio silence, the alert prioritizes; the scrap metal, only the glove and lower arm can be salvaged now : j.a.r.v.i.s. remembers naught but the static erasure and return. his voice emits louder.