"Zatanna," Beauty repeated, saying the name with as much care as she would show to a thread of spider's silk. The mayor's eyes were drifting away from the present, then, back into memory and longing.... and it was so, so terribly familiar. She had felt that same expression on her own face, and in her own eyes, countless times before.
"What was your favorite thing about her?" she asked, trying to bring to the front of his mind the pleasant and beautiful memories instead of the truth that she was now gone. Beauty watched him very carefully over her teacup, hypersensitive to the signs that she'd gone too far, that she'd touched something too sensitive. She didn't want to hurt him more. She was trying to help.