Again, that familiar expression skipped across the mayor's face. Beauty wished she never had the experience to recognize it on the face of someone else now. The moment after that thought, she chided herself. If she'd never lost, herself, then she never could have understood where Monsieur Heart was coming from. Her fingers set themselves gently on his arm and squeezed before letting go again.
"Was the one you're missing also the one who was on your arm that night? A dark beauty, with grace enough for three? What was her name?"
She kept her voice even and gentle and neutral, trying to keep them soft enough to be easily dismissed if he didn't want to talk about his girlfriend. It was terrible losing someone like this. The truth was that they hadn't died, but the end result was the same.
No, not quite the same. There was always the chance that the City would again draw them back to it -- and so that hope, which sometimes helped, was also a horrifying presence, encouraging one to cling to what was already gone. Beauty ached for the mayor. It was a terrible and difficult thing, losing a loved one to the City.