And is she present?

Over there, reading a magazine.

Cam walks up to her. "Hey, did I keep you waiting?"

In a somewhat lower voice than Cam might expect:  "No worries.  Assuming you're who I think."

"I'm Cam!"

"Elevation.  A pleasure."

"Lovely to meet you. What's the procedure here?"

"I have a form mostly ready; it needs a few last touches - "  Here is a thin packet slid out from between some earlier pages of the magazine; here is a pen pulled from behind an ear, both offered to the space between Ellie and Felicity.

Ellie takes them.  "Thank you, uh, sssssssss.  Sir.  - Citizen?  Sorry."  She buries herself in the paperwork.

"Sss'okay."

Huh, Cam totally thought he was a woman, but he as far as he can recall did not act on that thought so he will just let it lie.

Ellie finishes the form, checks it over a few times, and makes faces at some of it but doesn't ultimately change anything.  "Okay."

"Are you coming with or just handing over the cash?" Elevation asks Cam.

"I'm sort of curious about the process."

Then they can all go up to one of the nook-counter-window things together.  Rome apparently isn't quite evil or incompetent enough to be anything less than perfectly polite to Ellie in front of the people paying thirty-some thousand alternate alternate universe dollars in order to free her; in fact the staffperson is quite celebratory.  Elevation mumbles something about the mailman winning the lottery as he passes Ellie an 'I was manumitted today!' sticker.  She doesn't apply it on anything.

And once the paper copies of Ellie's new documents are printed (with assurances that more durable versions will be mailed to her later), the staffperson informs the ensemble that they're free - he does a polite little customer-service laugh at the joke - to go.

"They have stickers," Cam mutters incredulously on their way out.

"Well we can't just commit grievous moral abuses, we've also got to be tacky about it."

"Yaaaay you bribed us to stop committing grievous moral abuses have a sticker!"

(This Is Ellie's Neutral Face.)

"Did you need anything else from me for now?  I intend to continue generally existing in Londinium if something else comes up."

"That is my only pressing errand! Let's swap numbers though."

He fishes a rubber-banded stack of business cards out of a pocket and hands Cam one.  Elevation D. Clarke, Spring Solq., Alphabet Conglomerate.  Work phone, personal phone, "fac" number.  An address.  One cannot uplift humanity without its lowest members.

Cam snaps a picture and hands it back. "Alphabet Conglomerate?"

"It's an activist meta-group."

"...that didn't really explain much."