Beauty had a habit of taking in anyone who needed a home. Now that Pixie was staying with her, there was only the one guest room left -- but that was all right with Beauty; she'd not found another person since Piotr to share her cottage with. But the moment had already passed, and she let it.
"Wait - Wonderland?" she asked, her eyes lighting up. "I read a book about Wonderland. It sounded fantastic and frightening all at the same time. It sounded like living in a perpetual dream. I wonder if that Wonderland was the same as your Wonderland... Who was your mother?"
It was clear that Beauty hadn't assumed what most people might have: the figurative parental regime. Then, Beauty was French, and regimes were commonplace for her. There was always one, and one was always trying to topple the other... She nibbled at the corner of her lemon cookie, before taking a sip of Earl Grey tea.