Sometimes Pearl wonders at this hold that Rose has upon her. How does she do it? If Pearl didn't have two feet firmly grounded in a worldview based on Science and Rationality, she'd wonder if Rose had the mythical eye of some goddess of romance fixed upon her. Surely the way those hips move can't be merely human. Who is she, and why? Why would she pick -- Pearl, of all people, to play these games with?

Right now, though, none of these things are on Pearl's mind. Right now she's exactly where she needs to be: fully present.

It takes her a moment to process the question; she gives herself a little shake, as if waking for a trance. A protesting little whimper, nearly inaudible. But then: "Okay." Yes, of course she can; she can do just about anything for Rose. Extricating herself from the lap, she shuffles backwards, knees knocking against wet tile. Face flushed, chest still heaving from the kiss. Her hands fold, uncertainly, on her thighs as she looks to Rose for the next move.