Pearl almost misses the soothing pressure of hands massaging her legs, but she can't bring herself to voice any complaints, what with Rose's attention narrowed on her, Rose's skin against her skin. Rose, almost in her lap: close enough for any number of delightful things. That playful look she's wearing, eyes fond and sly from under her tumbling curls, usually bodes very well for Pearl, or sometimes very dangerously; often, both at once.

"Yes, of course." Blinking her gaze away from those full, soft lips, she proffers her mug.