Strago surveyed the row of paintings with both pride and a pang. He knew the hole left behind when magic faded, and for Relm to be confined to mere canvas wasn't easy on her, while he wasn't sure what to do or say about it either; he missed it greatly too. Then he spotted it in the corner, not yet quite finished: a painting of...him and her, and he felt a surge of warmth; they lost, but they weren't lost and a sort of magic still remained.