Vos is quiet, but ever so diligent in his observations and so very eager to please. Tarn sighs, pleased, as the small mech exploits the chinks in his armor, attractive brushes and tweaks over small, sensitive components and wiring normally hidden from view.

"Very good," Tarn purrs, hands dropping firmly to Vos's hipspan. He knows the mech is not nearly as fragile as he seems, but like this the difference in their physical power seems most obvious. It's easy to shift the rifle, angling his hips up to get a better view at his array.

A hand slides down, two fingers pressing up against the covers and rubbing firm, deliberate circles on the thin metal, occasionally dipping into the small seams around the gaps of his hips.