Her fingers have taken up the role of tracing the braid of backbone (it's a bit of a strain to bend over and kiss for too long, in that position -- even with someone less willowy than Pearl). They pause, though, at the fumble.

Rose shifts a little closer. Propped up on one elbow as she is, the rearrangement is a minor one. Easier than Pearl's position: ribs of sinew in her neck pluck awake as she tries to turn her head, and Rose would weigh the option of having her sit up if struggle-y Pearl wasn't so cute.

She's curious now, though. Her knuckles just graze the skin of Pearl's forearm, an encouraging touch. "Can I what?"