The Observer folds into a nearby chair and makes no pretence of watching anyone else. Flavio, still standing on his chair, surveys his domain — and clocks the Observer immediately, because toddlers are territorial about attention. He raises the boutonnière in formal salute. 'Magnifico,' he confirms, quieter now, like a king acknowledging tribute. Across the table, Aurora's olive negotiation reaches its verdict: the olive is examined, held up to the afternoon light, and eaten. A full parade of expressions crosses her face — surprise, deliberation, a brief philosophical wobble — before settling into the serene calm of someone who has made peace with a consequential decision. Flavio studies this with intense scientific interest, then lifts his orange fizz toward the Observer with grave ceremony. At the far end of the table, the best man clears his throat and tries again. Nobody looks his way. On the flower arch, the gull rearranges its feet with sovereign indifference.