Rosita doesn't move - not in a stiff way, she watches Dinah come closer with close interest, admittedly some of which is just habitual watchfulness, but not all. She sits still and lets Dinah come to her, lets her decide when and where and how much to touch.

She lets Dinah be the one to lean in but once their lips touch she's picking up her end too. She kisses back, one hand raised - slowly, carefully, used to twitchy trauma survivors and their myriad insecurities and fears - to brush the backs of her fingers along the other woman's neck on her way to resting that hand there.

She lets it be sweet, lets it be slow, lets them get to know each other just a bit better.