[There's a moment where he tenses - it's been a long, long time since certain things happened to that spark, but he still can't help his initial response. The casing is scarred, worn and chipped in places, and the contact with those scars makes him press himself against those fingers, groaning in his chest.

For his part, the touch of his fingers on Jazz's casing is light, careful, with hesitant little brushes of a fingertip.]