Rose laughs too -- she lights up with giddy cruelty. Pearl’s body is a crafted instrument that she’s honed over the years to dance, and express, and carry herself with total awareness, and here she is now: wriggling helplessly on Rose’s couch.

“Confess! Confess!” she laughs, “There’s still time to atone!”

She keeps up the torment a few seconds longer, then relents -- still grinning -- and gives them both a moment to catch their breath.

Stays put over Pearl, though: still hovering.