The observer follows Aurora's gaze past Flavio, past the candles, all the way to the flower arch — and there it is. Perched on the topmost white rose with the absolute composure of a creature who has never doubted its right to be anywhere, sits a herring gull. It arrived via the side window (left open for ventilation, a decision that already regrets itself), and it is staring at Aurora's fist of birdseed with the focused, professional attention of an expert. Aurora stares back. Her expression is one of total, luminous joy — the joy of someone who has planned nothing and been rewarded enormously. Flavio still hasn't looked up; he is busy attempting to repurpose the observer's lapel pin. The gull tips its enormous yellow beak. Aurora's fingers loosen around the birdseed. The observer's smile holds perfectly steady in the way of someone doing very fast mathematics.