Altair/Ofelia/Open
Unfortunately, the nearest person turned out to be Ofelia Zhou. She'd melded right into the crowd over the course of the King's speech, taking position behind an overly-tall monk where she wouldn't be noticed, and settling back into the position of observer. Elsewhere in the crowd, she could see (or sense, like a phantom limb) some of the other Bureau agents blending right in with their surrounding citizens. A couple of them kept up a low chatter, jokes exchanged beneath their breath and audible in her skull, and she smiled.
The woman straightened to attention during the speech, her dark eyes flicking once to the chainsmoking Heinlein before darting away. No need to linger. They had other things to pay attention to, and a crowd's pulse to take. Once the event wrapped up and the fighter installed in front of her finally moved away, Ofelia was startled to practically meet Altair's gaze, catching his eye where he lingered against the side of the building.
Just a couple weeks before, she might have reacted to his presence with some melange of irritation and exasperation. Today, it wasn't entirely different, but it was tempered and lessened somewhat – so she sighed and came over, one hand rummaging in a coat pocket for a cigarette of her own.