Not even a little. It's like an earworm that squeezes in between the gaps in the song, or immediately thinking of a purple elephant as soon as somebody says don't think of a purple elephant. The anxious fluttering gives his ribs a good solid whack and sends the vibrations all the way up to his fingers.

The dial twitches too far again. Radar winces, scowls, and mutters, "I wasn't nervous til you said something about it."

(Liar.)