Jay isn't prepared for how deeply uncomfortable it is watching Tim read what he's written, so before Tim gets very far he turns away and floats further into the apartment. He doesn't have an object, here, other than to distantly alert Tim to his presence, rather than by tapping him, as though he's looking over his shoulder. He does want a response, though he's terrified of what it'll be.

What a stupid letter. He should have waited. He should have rewritten it.

He drifts sulkily around the kitchen until he decides to place his focus on a spoon lying out. He picks it up, slowly, with great effort, and taps it very gently against the counter. Good. Not a clatter this time, but a purposeful noise.