The standoff has a quality that only a church and a toddler can produce together. Flavio's boutonnière wand is pointed with the gravity of a small boy who has decided something enormous is about to happen. The Hat Lady meets his gaze with absolute serenity, the brim of her extraordinary hat trembling only slightly as the organist hits a particularly enthusiastic chord. She has not blinked. She will not be the first to blink. Aurora, undeterred by the psychic standoff happening three feet away, has discovered the birdseed fits neatly through a gap in the pew ahead and is depositing it one precise handful at a time. From two rows forward, a barrel-chested figure in charcoal — Uncle Gianni, who is missing a boutonnière and has only just noticed — begins to rise very slowly, moustache bristling with purpose. Flavio's wand wobbles. The hat shudders. Something is about to give.