Harry didn't bother responding to the whole Quidditch thing, that conversation over as far as he was concerned. He grinned at the innuendo of Jack's physical exploration of his muse, his imagination getting the best of him. Mental images, just flashes really, of artistic hands smoothing over pale skin, exploring and mapping out. He blushed again and averted his gaze.
"Well, I would have said that, but you're the human pretzel, not me." He quipped, snickering. He took the sketchpad from Jack, one fingertip lightly tracing over the facial features that had so accurately been immortalized. His straight nose, even the slight flush of his cheeks. His messy hair, the scar on his forehead barely peeking through. "Why didn't you just do a caricature, like you did with that woman?" He finally asked, shooting another curious gaze at the artist. "I mean, don't get me wrong! Merlin, I'm certainly not complaining. I'm just...surprised, I guess."