Tony couldn't believe his eyes.
That elegant, razor-sharp JARVIS had turned into a fat cat obsessed with lasagna.
In the span of just a few minutes—what on earth had happened in this room?!
"If you don't like it, Mr. Stark… I can ask JARVIS to change back," Clara said carefully.
The moment she saw the real Tony, her voice unconsciously softened. The carefree excitement she'd had while playing with JARVIS vanished.
"Call me Tony," Tony said, frowning.
Every time Clara addressed him, she used honorifics. She didn't do that with anyone else. She only did it with people she considered distant.
"Okay… Tony sir."
"It's Tony. Not Tony sir."
Tony raised his voice slightly without realizing it, sounding harsher than he meant to.
"Yes… yes, Tony…"
Clara lowered her head, twisting her fingers together. A faint sense of disappointment crept into her chest.
Tony… not Dad…
Tony immediately realized he'd scared her. He coughed lightly, lowering his voice.
"How do you feel?"
"A little dizzy. Other than that, I'm fine. Don't worry."
Silence filled the room.
Tony Stark—normally silver-tongued—found himself at a complete loss under Clara's wide, quiet gaze.
He wondered: If Clara were really my daughter… how should a father even ask about what happened yesterday?
Tony had zero parenting experience. Everything he'd learned from Howard Stark had been strict discipline. Joking with adults was easy—but right now, he was oddly nervous.
This was the first time he'd ever been alone with Clara.
Well—alone, except for one fat cat.
After a moment's thought, Tony dragged a chair over and placed it beside Clara's bed. The orange cat obligingly turned its head to follow his movement.
JARVIS was fully committed to the role.
Ignoring the unnecessary cat, Tony sat down.
"Clara," he asked calmly, "yesterday—who struck first?"
The statements from the police said Catherine insisted Clara attacked first, claiming self-defense. Even Jubina Loxter backed that version.
Tony didn't believe it.
He wanted to hear Clara's side.
"I slapped her first," Clara said honestly. "Because she insulted my mother. I couldn't allow that. So I hit her before she could hit me."
Tony silently approved.
Frankly, one slap was merciful.
"And what about Jubina?" Tony continued. "Do you usually have conflicts with her?"
"Not really," Clara said after thinking. "We don't get along, but we barely talk. This time she said I stole her boyfriend. I think it was just wishful thinking. If Kade really were her boyfriend, she'd have told the whole school."
She was still analyzing Jubina's words—so she didn't notice Tony's expression suddenly darken.
"You have a boyfriend?" he asked.
His tone was far more strained than he realized—just like every dad who suddenly finds out his daughter might be dating.
"No," Clara replied quickly. "Kade suddenly confessed to me. He said that after he got into MIT, he hoped I'd give him a chance to date."
"After MIT?" Tony repeated. "Why after MIT?"
"Because when I rejected the love letters, I said I wanted to focus on getting into MIT and wouldn't get distracted by dating."
Tony's mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios.
Plural pigs.
"How many love letters have you received?" he asked.
"About… five or six? I'm not sure. Jeresia probably remembers better."
Jeresia had once joked that every time Clara got a love letter, she'd put a coin into a bottle—and on Clara's wedding day, she'd use the money to buy her a gift.
A ridiculous plan. With Jeresia's spending habits, that money would never last.
"Clara," Tony began solemnly, "early relationships can negatively affect a young person's studies and development—"
He was reciting the same lecture his own homeroom teacher used back in the day.
"I know," Clara nodded seriously. "Early dating affects academic focus, emotional development, and can cause irreversible harm to mental health. So I plan to think about it only after graduating college and finding a stable job."
Tony's prepared speech died in his throat.
She'd said it better than any teacher ever had.
Tony—who'd been lectured countless times—felt utterly defeated.
"You… understand. That's good. Very good," he muttered.
Clara's concussion hadn't fully healed. After talking for a while, her head began to throb again. Tony told her to lie back down and rest.
…..
Back in his workshop, Tony found himself unable to focus.
At first, he'd worried about Clara getting into an early relationship. Now, he was worried about something else entirely.
Was it because of me… that she has so little faith in relationships?
Since the Battle of New York, Tony had matured—but he'd also grown prone to self-blame. He worried constantly that he wasn't doing enough, that his past recklessness had left scars.
"JARVIS," Tony asked quietly, "do you think Clara doesn't long for… love… because of me?"
"I believe you are overthinking it, sir," JARVIS replied. "Clara is simply psychologically mature and understands what choices are appropriate."
"Clara?" Tony narrowed his eyes. "You're on first-name terms now?"
"Yes, sir. We've already had a private introduction. If you don't mind, I'd like to set this form as my default desktop animation."
A plump orange cat appeared in front of Tony, hands clasped behind its back, tail swaying smugly.
"Hello, I'm Garfield. My favorite food is lasagna. My favorite hobby is bullying Odie. And the cat I hate most is Nermal."
"…Fine," Tony sighed.
------
By evening, Pepper returned with dinner.
"Has Clara woken up?" she asked, setting bags on the table. "I brought food for her too."
"She woke up this afternoon, then fell asleep again. Right now… I'm not sure."
"Sir," JARVIS chimed in helpfully, "Clara has just awakened."
"I knew it," Pepper smiled. "She must have smelled the food. Tony, set the table. I'll go get her."
Kicking off her heels, Pepper hurried upstairs.
Tony rose slowly, laying out the food while muttering under his breath.
"She never made me set the table before… I think my authority as a boss has officially vanished…"
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