The observer's free hand — the one not presently occupied as Flavio's wand target — moves quietly and closes over Aurora's fist, tucking her fingers back around the birdseed. Aurora's head swivels up with the expression of someone whose alliance has just been queried mid-negotiation. The observer meets her eyes and gives one small, deliberate shake of the head. On the flower arch, the gull recalculates. Aurora looks at the gull. She looks at the observer. Then — and this takes a moment to appreciate fully — she nods. Gravely. A two-year-old who has decided to be strategic about it. The birdseed stays put. Crisis, for now, deferred. It is exactly at this moment that Flavio, who has successfully removed the lapel pin and is examining it with a collector's satisfaction, finally looks up. His gaze travels the length of the nave. It finds the flower arch. It finds the gull. His eyes go very wide.