I can bind two strangers, seal a promise, or carry a debt. I can be traded, yet never held. But pair me with a number, a glass, and a drink best shaken, not stirred and I become a signature. What am I?

You can find me in the sand Or in a storm up in the sky. You can find me catching killers Or under a chess player's hand.

I've been called a jar, but that's not true. I'm simply opened up for you. If that isn't copacetic, pull me shut, you won't regret it.

I dance between two wires, or leap from striking steel. Though I am gone in but a blink, the fire seems far more real.

I am a long, hard thing that leaves an impression, I am usually held with fingers, leaving a stain from my session.