True-body does not react to the well meaning touch if the small organic. It only keeps on doing what is already does, trying to apologize for an transgression as terrible as nothing else ever imagined.
The naked form shudders when Midvalley's hand makes contact. It makes an aborted move to excape. But instead of running as fast as he can, Jazz only collapses. A puppet with its strings cut, lifeless and empty.
"You're bleeding," he repeats. "One is supposed to protect a third, not hurt him. Never hurt." His words are clipped, hollow sounding like an echo that cannot be heard. "I'd rather die than damage a third."
An unsure hand tries to touch one of the wounds, stops and returns to his side without making contact.
"I don't want to hurt you," Jazz pleads. "You have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you."