"Jarvis!" Tony hollered, water dripping into his eyes as he tore the bathroom apart looking for a towel. "I know there was a towel here when I got into the shower—not to mention my clothes!"
Tony tried the bathroom door, which was locked, and heard the telltale whirr of Butterfingers' wheels as it scooted out of the bedroom—probably clutching the goods in its sneaky, mechanical hands. Which meant the robots were in league together, conspiring against him, though he couldn't imagine their larger goal. Maybe Jarvis was just a pervert.
"Jarvis!" he yelled again, rattling the doorknob as uselessly as before. God only knew what else the robots were doing out there—probably TP-ing the inside of the house.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, thought about rolling himself dry on the carpet. It was his own damn fault the robots had gotten loose. He should have never run that elevator all the way down to the basement.
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