She doesn't push or look askance during that silence. When he does answer, she glances over her shoulder, briefly assessing; maybe, Lea suspects, most people will look at Wolfgang and not see the soldier, not see the person who could be deemed a criminal, but she knows what it's like to be underestimated. To be seen as limited in the perception of others, as they project their own limitations onto you.

She nods, understanding a little. The Militia, most likely. Later she will probably privately investigate to learn more, but now is not the time.

What is more at hand is that door, and whatever is waiting behind it.

"I suppose a thorough inspection is the best plan."

Lea hovers her palm over the lock, and then steps carefully to one side, pressing herself against the side of the tall armoire framing the door. Undoing said lock doesn't necessitate a lot of power, psychokinetically, and the door creaks open--a truly horror movie creak, too, slow and keening--to reveal a thin crack of darkness. At this angle, she can't quite see inside, so she looks to Wolfgang a second time.