Rose can't help it. She wants to laugh. Pretty, poised, hyper-competent Pearl, with her discerning looks down an aristocrat nose and manicured outfits set to match down to her class notes is just... kind of a disaster, really, when it comes down to it, and not just when Rose is around.
(Though. She does boost the odds an awful lot.)
Rose's mouth opens to reply. But as she watches Pearl double over again, it becomes brightly difficult to ignore how beautifully biddable she looks this way. Bent as if to kneel. The just-pinked skin of lower back curving: her shoulder blades framing eaves above the tender Braille of backbone: freckled fretboard ribs --
"Let me get them." Low, kind, dulcet. Hearing her speak, one would never believe Rose's mouth has gone a bit dry. Gently -- gently -- her hand rests on Pearl's shoulder for attention. She's warm, and Rose can feel the static pop of her nerves, and a fondness tugs alongside hunger on the little pulleys in her chest. "Finish your shower, sweetness."
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(Though. She does boost the odds an awful lot.)
Rose's mouth opens to reply. But as she watches Pearl double over again, it becomes brightly difficult to ignore how beautifully biddable she looks this way. Bent as if to kneel. The just-pinked skin of lower back curving: her shoulder blades framing eaves above the tender Braille of backbone: freckled fretboard ribs --
"Let me get them." Low, kind, dulcet. Hearing her speak, one would never believe Rose's mouth has gone a bit dry. Gently -- gently -- her hand rests on Pearl's shoulder for attention. She's warm, and Rose can feel the static pop of her nerves, and a fondness tugs alongside hunger on the little pulleys in her chest. "Finish your shower, sweetness."