Aurora and Flavio turn as one — the synchronized pivot of two small people who have made a decision and are not taking further questions. The gelato vendor watches them go, still bewildered, as they march back up the cobblestones with considerable purpose. The climb is steeper going up. Flavio's surviving sock slides definitively to the ankle; he does not acknowledge it. Aurora lifts the hem of her dress an inch, like a duchess on a very uneven staircase. The seagull is still on the flower arch when they arrive, bread roll pinned beneath one yellow foot, watching the harbour with the calm of a creature that considers this matter settled. Then it notices two small figures below, staring upward. Flavio raises the boutonnière wand. The seagull blinks once, slowly, with the expression of an entity that has lived above Lysekil harbour long enough that it genuinely cannot tell whether this is a threat or a greeting.