"Jesus," he hisses out, caught somewhere between admiration and shock at Jim's daring at copping a feel like that, right in the public eye. He's going a shade of red that looks better on roses than him, but soon enough, his body's quick to respond to all that touching with an eager 'yeah, and how about a little bit more?'

"Don't think medical representatives get desks," is all he musters out. "Still, if you win, I got plans for you, James T."