"A good day to you then, sir."
Taking a stroll about the place on his way back to his corner, he repeats over and over in his mind "Lieutenant Colonel Malfael Robalar, 53rd Oduxron Battalion," while visualizing the flowing script of the signature.
He spots another patron sitting alone, and recognizes the subtle mechanics of one casing the joint, noting the nobles and other marks. Whoever he is, he's experienced, and Parallel is sure no one else has caught on. Parallel finds a place to stand casually and waits until he catches the eye of his fellow street hustler, so he can make safe contact before approaching.