The Observer moves with the swiftness of someone who has been revising their plan for the last thirty seconds. Aurora is scooped upright a half-second before her nose achieves contact with the floating candles — a rescue so precisely timed it almost looks practiced. Aurora registers this as an outrage. "No," she announces, loudly, to the room. Then "no" again, for emphasis. Then two more, in case anyone missed the first two. Flavio looks up from the place setting he has reorganised into a system that appears to prioritise the soup spoon above all other cutlery. He assesses the scene: sister airborne, Observer occupied, napkin-folder covering her mouth. Then Flavio spots something beyond the Observer's shoulder — the gelato display by the service counter, colours vivid as a paint box — and his whole face changes. The boutonnière swings. His tiny feet begin to move.