Her hand curls at the crook of Wolfgang's elbow in gentle hold, equal parts reassurance as it is an anchoring for herself as she blinks at request. ID. ID is something she has, right? Not the forged Registration card from home. It takes her a second to get her CiD out of a pocket with her free hand, offered with mute resignation as if maybe compliance will get them out of the house faster.

And something breaks, and she gives a sort of moue of dismay, a full bodied twitch like she wants to chase after the people getting deeper and deeper inside, but.

With steady hands, she goes to gently urge Wolfgang's into showing her the page he's worrying. There's a lot of legalise that doesn't make a lot of sense to her. Summons. "Okay," she says, at 'I'm just doing my job'. "Do you, um. Can you tell us who issued this? This seems very--" Something falls off a wall and shatters, upstairs. "--unnecessary."