The woman's face remained calm.
"Is there a problem with the credentials?"
"There's a problem with you."
The words hung between them.
The woman studied the officer for a moment.
Then she replied quietly, "I'd like your name and badge number, please."
The officer laughed.
It was a short, unpleasant sound.
"Oh, now we're doing that?"
She reached across the table and snatched the identification wallet from the woman's hand.
The woman did not pull away.
"That identification is federal property. Please handle it appropriately."
The officer flipped the wallet open.
Inside was a laminated photographic credential and a separate paper authorization bearing an appointment reference.
The officer examined the photograph.
Then she looked at the woman.
Then back at the photograph.
"You really think this is going to work?"
The woman said nothing.
The officer removed the laminated card from its protective sleeve, bent it sharply, and cracked its edge.
A small fragment snapped free.
The woman stared at the damaged card.
"Officer, stop."
But the blonde officer was already tearing the accompanying authorization into strips.
One piece.
Then another.
Then another.
The sound of ripping paper seemed unnaturally loud inside the quiet lobby.
The officer tossed the fragments against the woman's chest.
They fluttered down over her expensive dress and landed across the inspection table.
"There," the officer said, smiling. "That's what I think of your fake federal paperwork."
For the first time, the woman looked genuinely surprised.
Not frightened.
Not embarrassed.
Surprised.