The Hat Lady's expression holds for one long moment — the expression of someone assembling a response to a situation no social protocol has covered — and then her whole face softens into a soundless, shoulder-shaking laugh. Aurora accepts this as adequate acknowledgment. Transaction complete. She turns and surveys the church with fresh eyes, the way Flavio surveys a room when he is deciding where the music ought to go next. The final chord of the ring hymn is gathering itself; somewhere behind her she can hear Flavio's wand-arm rising for the last time. That is when she spots them: a lean figure in a blazer the colour of terracotta, standing just apart from the nearest pew, the only warm-orange shape in a sea of charcoal and navy and very responsible Swedish grey. Something about it is extremely interesting. Aurora deliberates for the full length of one second, which is her entire deliberation period. Then her small feet are already pointed that way.