It's not as if they've haven't kissed before, in hundreds of places and hundreds of ways, but not like this -- not on Pearl's terms. It's always been Rose's prerogative, and Pearl had thought it always would be. In all the slow centuries of her life, she's rarely proven herself so wrong. Finally with a gasp she pulls away. Her hands -- one tangled with Rose's, the other having come to rest on the curve of a large hip -- are trembling. No, not just her hands, her whole body, shaking at her own foolish daring. She feels dizzy, as if she's freefalling.

Two thousand years ago she'd never have looked at Rose this way. A thousand years, and she'd have been stammering out a plea for forgiveness, hands flapping. But today -- Rose approves, and Pearl didn't do anything wrong, did she, and in a flare of pride, she bites back her instinctive apologies, lifting her chin instead.

"I-I could do that more..." Having reached the limit of her newfound forcefulness, she finds herself struggling. "If that's-- the, um, thing...you.... "