She looks at the hand... stands, and takes it. 

"Let's."

She gently helps Pigeon out of the snug little booth, and then leads the way toward the exit and down the halls.

And unless Pigeon makes a motion to indicate she'd prefer it, Sable is not going to think to let go.

Pigeon isn't letting go either. Her grip is only getting tighter as they approach Sable's room.

Which appears, soon enough, bold number nine standing out on the simple door. She comes to a stop at the door, puts her hand on the knob, gives Pigeon a grin, and opens the door.

Oh wait, she forgot to clean up. Fuck.

The hotel room still looks mostly the same - couch, bed, the full-length mirror standing a little ways away from the bed. Her mess has been cleaned up though; the clothes she left scattered across the bed have been neatly folded and pressed and left on her bedside table, along with her bottled mocha and packet of chocolate pretzels. There's no sign of the tea she ordered. 

A handful of stylized glass bottles sit on the central console; the labels are too small to make out from this distance. There's also a purple hairbrush nestled in among them.

Oh, right, the Bowers will just do that if you let them. Awesome. She holds the door for Pigeon.

"Welcome, milady, to my humble and as-yet-uncustomized room."

"You can customize them? I wasn't aware that was an option." 

Pigeon's gaze flicks between the bed and the couch, and she smoothly walks in and takes a seat on the latter.

"Mhm!" She sits down beside her, eyes darting across the bottles. "The big mirror, for example, happened when I needed to inspect these designs after applying them." She gestures at her tattooed body demonstratively.

"S'funny, for a girl who's never been here before, I know an awful lot about the little intricacies and less-advertised features." She shakes her head, amused, and starts inspecting the hairbrush as well — her curls don't play nice with serious brushing when dry, so this brush might be (an instance of) Pigeon's? For that matter, is her tail brush nearby?

"Oh, would you like some music, or a soundscape, or something?"

Closer up, it's possible to read the bottles' labels. This purple one is jasmine massage oil; the red one next to it is cinnamon, and this tan one next to it is sandalwood. Next to the massage oil sits a pair of potions of empathy, with little heart's-key designs on the stems. 

As Sable picks up the brush, it shifts with her thoughts to become a perfect duplicate of her tail brush. 

Pigeon blinks at the transforming brush. "Um, I'd prefer not, if it's all the same to you."

Sable nods at Pigeon's preference, briefly notes the bottles, and gives the brush a closer look. "Huh. Didn't expect that!" She tries to shift it back to the purple brush it was earlier, and (presuming success) asks, "Does this match yours, maybe? My curls turn to frizzy fluff if I brush them dry, and they take a specialized brush on top of that, so it's not mine."

And then she finally processes the bottles, and blushes. "Um. That sure is a pair of empathy potions and now I'm suddenly wondering if it's possible to feedback loop just on petting and oh Goddess why did I say that?"

"Yeah, that matches the brush I use for my hair." She smiles slightly - then giggles nervously at the feedback loop comment. "I, um, I honestly don't know, what do empathy potions do exactly?"

"They allow controllable emotion and sensation sharing. So if, for example, we each drank one, and opened it up all the way, any pleasure we give each other would be shared, as would how we felt about it."

Pigeon blushes hard at that. "Gosh. That's... wow." 

She looks over at the potions. "... it would be nice to... know for sure... but that's scary, I don't know if I want to try it..."

Sable nods hard, blushing as well. "Right? Like I know I want to know what you're feeling, and an extra way to feel good for making you feel good is right and proper, but my mind's a chaotic emotional soup and I'm embarrassed about sharing all of that."

"Yeah, um, same. Maybe we could just... I don't know." 

She looks over at the brush. "Neat brush though."

"Isn't it just? And for the potions, um... I feel like it can't be that hard to just limit it to sensations, and only open up the emotions if we feel comfortable with that. Maybe even can just open up the emotions from one side? Like I might be okay with sharing mine first."

She looks down at the brush in her hand, then back up at Pigeon. "And maybe this is a decision we should make while brushing your hair?"

".... Yeah. I mean, if it's controllable, we can always just... turn it off if we don't like it."

"Yeah, that's the idea. Ach, y'know what? Let's go for it."

She reaches out and grabs the bottles, offering one to Pigeon.

Pigeon takes the bottle, unstoppers it, and looks at it. The amber liquid within is still like glass. 

She sips it.

"... tastes like peaches. And it doesn't seem to be doing anything. Maybe I need to drink more?" 

Pigeon tilts the bottle back and takes a large swallow. 

"... still nothing. Might as well finish the bottle..." 

She drinks the remainder, and sets the empty bottle down on the console. 

"Maybe it won't until we both drink it?"

She opens hers and tips it back, drinking the whole thing quickly, and sets the empty down.

"Mmm, orange for mine."

Pigeon scrunches up her hands in her dress on her lap and takes a deep breath. 

"... I feel... something... Something warm and fluttery... coming from..."

She looks over at Sable. "Oh." 

She blushes and grins. "Warm and fluttery about describes how I feel here with you right now, yeah."

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a moment, then smiles softly. "And yeah, I'm nervous too. Really glad to be trying this with you though. I'd love to brush your hair or pet you again. May I?"

Pigeon looks over at Sable. They're not far apart; there's only so much room on the couch. 

"Um, I..."

She looks away, and a feeling of paralysis and worry washes past Sable...

But then she kicks up her feet and gently lowers herself into Sable's lap. 

As soon as she touches Sable, the feelings become much clearer. There's fear, and mustered will, and a trembly excitement, and then undercurrents of... haze. It doesn't feel like she's sharing everything she could be.

For a moment Sable freezes, and the first things coming across from her side are twinned fear and hope. Then she starts moving again, and there's excitement, warmth, attraction, care, some joy, and all of it is threaded through with fierce pride.

Her hands slip down to Pigeon's head, and slide into the dark tresses to start scritching softly.

Just having Pigeon's head in her lap seems to be slowly ramping up the warmth Sable's feeling.