Gritting his teeth, Tarn forces his armor to relax and open to Spinister's digging fingers. As uncomfortable and invasive as this venture may feel, Tarn really does what whatever is stuck in there out.

He flinches again as the object shifts, constricting a cluster of wires and sending a sharp shooting pain down the length of his arm.

Tarn tightens his jaw, biting down a hiss. Perhaps if he flexes his shoulder just right, it might help to shift the foreign body within Spinister's reach.

"Is that helping?" Tarn quizzes in a quiet baritone over his shoulder. Honestly, he's not sure how else to assist.