The request unplugs a soft, stinging thickness in Rose's chest. Dizzy greens and spilled things and an ounce of clammy guilt.

She doesn't answer. Not right away. Rose sets the showerhead on the wash bench and -- shifting backwards -- folds her legs underneath herself before settling on the shower floor. Uncaring of the wet.

She sits next to Pearl on the tile, and takes up a shaky hand. Skims her thumb along the wrist: soft.

"Come here, babydoll." Tries to guide Pearl into her generous lap. Dark eyes doleful. "Come on."